


Sprout

by Dorks_are_just_people_who_care_a_lot



Category: Single Parents (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorks_are_just_people_who_care_a_lot/pseuds/Dorks_are_just_people_who_care_a_lot
Summary: Will and Angie have been dating for six months, and everything's been going perfectly. A little too perfectly Angie thinks, because the universe usually always seems to have it out for her.Set in the future (January 2021 to be exact). Angill fluff, angst, smut, I got it all.
Relationships: Angie D'Amato & Graham D'Amato, Sophie Cooper & Will Cooper, Will Cooper/Angie D'Amato
Comments: 41
Kudos: 65





	1. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place 1/31/2021

Angie’s never considered herself a lucky person. And yes, she’d be the first to admit, she has the coolest son in the world, a pretty kickass group of friends, and more recently, the best boyfriend she’s ever had. But she has those things because she’d gotten them for herself. Not because the universe has ever handed anything to her. Actually, she usually gets those things in spite of the universe.

At twenty-two years old was been abandoned, pregnant, outside a gas station, broke, with no college degree, no family, no nothing. She took the money from her hot streak in Vegas just before Graham’s birth and used it to scrape by while she put herself through school. She made a good life for herself.

Last year, when she somehow ended up Barstow with Derek because everything went wrong and she and Will didn’t get to talk about their feelings for each other, it was Angie alone who made the decision to come home, suck it up, and finally tell Will how she felt.

The point is, Angie’s pretty good at making things work, but every time things are finally going well, the universe usually has a curveball for her.

So needless to say, she’s suspicious as her six month anniversary with Will approaches. Things are perfect. Like _I’m with the love of my life_ kind of perfect. Not that Angie would ever say that out loud, because as head over heels as she is Will, she’s always been terrified of commitment.

But it has been great. The first few weeks of dating Will, they’d struggled to find their footing; they were already so intertwined in each other’s lives; Angie and Graham ate dinner with Will and Sophie at least three times a week, they watched each other’s kids, and spent every free evening watching terrible TV shows together. Neither of them had ever been good at mixing their kids with their love life (Angie had to _great_ lengths to keep Graham from meeting Owen, and Will, who knew that his relationship with Tracy ended because he was too focused on parenting, was afraid to let that happen again). So they’d had to strike a balance, spending a little less time together so that they could have some semblance of boundaries while they figured everything out. They’d done all the stupid romantic dating stuff like dressing up and going to nice restaurants that Angie had to admit was pretty awesome.

By now though, they’ve got the system down perfectly. Angie hates that it’s a system in the first place, because it makes everything feel so much less exciting and romantic when they have to schedule their nights alone together weeks in advance, begging Poppy, Miggy, or Douglas to take the kids. But, they’re both parents, and so there’s always a balance between the romance and the realism. Most of their date nights involve drinking hot cocoa and watching a movie with the kids, followed by drinking wine and watching Joust when the kids are asleep. Graham loves Will, and between having more Will and more Derek in his life lately, he’s been on Cloud Nine. And much to Angie’s delight, she and Sophie have gotten along great these past several months, finding lots of things to do together that don’t involve shoplifting or dyeing anyone’s hair pink.

Actually, Angie’s pretty sure even the stupid universe and its vendetta against her can’t mess this one up. But perhaps this is the very thought that jinxes everything, because it’s the very week before their six-month anniversary that the universe comes swinging at Angie full force.

It all starts when Angie comes down with a stomach bug. Perhaps it’s because she and Graham largely consume a diet of takeout food and frozen chicken nuggets these days, but the two of them have never had the greatest immune systems. The one thing that’s different is that usually Graham gets sick from the other kids at school (because kids are basically just tiny germ factories), and brings it home. But this time, it’s Angie who’s sick first. Graham has a big presentation about animals that he’s supposed to be giving in class the following week, and when he realizes Angie’s sick, he’s terrified.

“Mom, I can’t get sick this week. I’ve been working on this poster about tigers for like a whole month!”

“Okay dude, I get it,” Angie tells him. She takes a couple sick days off of work even though she doesn’t have a fever, and texts all the other parents asking for people to cover her babysitting shifts for the rest of the week. Will offers to have Graham sleep over at his house even though it’s a weeknight, just so Angie can get some rest. She’s grateful for the offer, and Graham, who has spent the afternoon locked in his room surrounded by bottles of hand sanitizer and Lysol to ward off germs, is all too eager to be away from Angie.

Whatever stomach bug she has, it’s mild, Angie thinks to herself. She feels like crap, and she’s barely eaten anything today, but she’s eaten half a sleeve of the saltine crackers Will dropped off for her, and those stayed down. She just feels all bleh. It honestly feels a lot like--

The minute the thought crosses her mind, Angie feels her heart stop. Suddenly panicked, she scrambles for her phone, unlocking it to open the calendar.

January 31st

Angie curses herself for not being a responsible adult and tracking her periods on app like she should. She tries frantically to think how many weeks it’s been. She remembers stealing a tampon from Poppy’s purse at the kids’ school holiday concert, and that was… December 6th.

No. No. _No no no no no no no._

This isn’t possible. The thought actually calms Angie down a little. This isn’t possible. So she’s late. It’s not that late, right? That’s happened before. Like last year when she was buried in work for a straight month, tied to her desk and eating barely anything besides potato chips from the vending machine. So what if she’s a couple weeks, late, there are plenty of possible explanations.

She does the math in her head.

8 weeks.

_Shit._

Like often happens when Angie panics, she runs. Grabbing her keys and wallet, she’s in her car speeding to the pharmacy in thirty seconds. The sudden onslaught of panic, coupled with her already upset stomach and the swerving of her car are not a good mix, and she pulls over on the shoulder of the road to vomit about halfway there. But she doesn’t even care because the only thing that matters right now is getting a pregnancy test so she can prove herself wrong and everything can be okay again.

She’s aware of the stares she’s getting while standing in line, dressed in her pajamas, hair a wild next on her head, feet stuffed into her neon yellow crocs that she’s embarrassed to even own. The lady in front of her in line is taking _forever_ to check out, piling wrinkled coupons onto the counter for the checkout girl to scan.

Angie sighs loudly and looks down at the box in her hands, considering taking the test out and peeing on it right here in line, partially to spite this _unbelievably slow customer_ and partially because she can’t go another second without knowing what the result will be.

When it’s _finally_ her turn, Angie just throws some cash on the counter and tells the girl to keep the change. It’s while she’s driving home at fifteen miles over the speed limit that it suddenly occurs to Angie that she should call Will.

Or would that be stupid, she wonders as she kicks her shoes off in her living room. She’d rather not worry him over nothing. And besides, what are the chances that she’s really pregnant.

The chances are high, the logical part of her brain whispers.

But Angie ignores that thought.

She hasn’t had anything to drink all day, despite Will texting her multiple times to remind her how important it is to stay hydrated when sick. So she chugs a glass of water and then paces nervously around the living room for several minutes, trying to ignore all of her thoughts until she knows anything for sure.

A message from Will buzzes on Angie’s phone. She looks at her screen.

_Hey, I know we had plans for tonight, but I don’t want to do anything if you’re not feeling well. Wanna just hang at your place? Or we can postpone to another night. Either way, Miggy’s watching the kids, so let me know if you need anything._

The message is so sincere and thoughtful, and Angie just knows Will’s spent the entire day thinking about her and whether she’s okay. And she just _can’t take it_ anymore, she has to know _now._

She hasn’t taken a pregnancy test in years. She’s normally very diligent when it comes to contraceptives, and she’s thankfully never had a pregnancy scare (besides the one that produced Graham). Angie’s fingers shake as she unboxes the test, and all the memories from eight years come flooding back to her.

She was a few months away from being twenty-two, and all that mattered in her life was Derek’s band. In those days, she was his number one fan and biggest groupie, touring around with him and the other three members as they tried to gain fame. They played plenty of shows for basically no money, and in some punk rock circles gained enough traction that smaller venues wanted to book them. Angie didn’t care that it was all small scale; didn’t have the foresight to see that Derek’s fame was fleeting and that she had no long term sustainable plans. She thought Derek was the love of her life. She’d been freaked out to take a pregnancy test, but not all that terrified. Actually, she’d felt kind of excited. Because stupidly, she thought Derek would be too.

Angie sets the test down on the counter. The box says to wait six minutes, so she flips it over and sets a timer on her phone. Her hands are still shaking and she feels like she might barf again, which only makes her panic more because _is this morning sickness??_

Suddenly, the idea of not telling Will seems stupid. Beyond stupid. He’s her best friend and her boyfriend, and the person she turns to when she needs help with anything. And right now she needs help. She grabs her phone.

_Can you come over here now please?_

His message pings back within seconds. He’s always been the type of person to drop everything to respond to the people he loves.

_Of course :) Just give me a few minutes to finish folding this laundry._

Angie texts back.

_This is really important pls come now_

Again, the reply is near instant:

_On my way._

Angie checks the timer; five minutes left. She wraps her fingers around the test, fighting the urge to flip it and try to search for the tiny pink line. But she forces herself not to, knowing a false conclusion in either direction would only make things worse.

She remembers taking the pregnancy test in a gas station in middle-of-nowhere Kentucky all those years ago. Her phone was dead, so she counted the seconds out loud to herself. She certainly hadn’t been trying to get pregnant, but Angie wasn’t surprised; she and Derek were never very thoughtful or careful people. Besides most of their encounters occurred when they were piss drunk after one of Derek’s performances, fueled by adrenaline from the screaming music.

And Angie thought she’d learned her lesson.

But with Will… well even before they started dating, they’ve had a habit of spending their nights getting wine drunk, watching bad TV, and making decisions that they probably wouldn’t if they were sober. But in the last six months… well, they’d certainly had their fair share of drunk sexy times.

With the kids home for Christmas break last month, they’d had sleepovers all together basically every night for two weeks. Will and Angie (well mostly Will) had decided they would never mess with Sophie and Graham’s schedules on school nights, but they’d taken advantage of that two week break.

God it had been amazing. Every day had been spent waking up next to Will, or waking up in an empty bed and hearing him whistling down the hall as he made pancakes. Days spent hanging with the kids, watching movies and playing board games. And then Will would put the kids to bed and Angie would pour some wine and put on whatever terrible TV show they were binging together. Will would join her on the couch, and they’d pretend to watch for a while, but one of them would eventually give in and lean over to kiss the other, and then Gaveltown would be completely forgotten.

Angie checks her phone. Four minutes left on the timer. _How_ is it possible that time moves this slow? And how is it possible that she’s ended up here, like this?

Angie feels like a teenager around Will. Which she _knows_ is stupid, because they both have kids, and literally last night he was helping her do her taxes, which is the most boring adult thing Angie can think of. Also Will is closer to being an old lady than a rebellious teen. But it’s the giddiness, the lightness of her teen years, that she feels have come back to her these six months. It’s just been, well, to use a word her teen self would’ve said totally unironically, super rad. And she doesn’t want to mess it up.

Two minutes left.

She thinks about what it was like, almost nine years ago, flipping that test in the gas station bathroom and seeing it was positive. When she saw the little pink line, she almost didn’t believe it. She remembers scrambling to get back to the tour bus, running into Derek by the gas pump, and just telling him right away, because she told him everything, and because she knew he’d notice something was up the second she stopped drinking.

It was a hard thing to even imagine back then. It’s a hard thing for Angie to imagine now. She looks down at her stomach, flat and normal looking as ever. It just doesn’t seem possible that there could be a baby in there. And then, the look on Derek’s face, and--

The timer beeps, startling Angie so badly that she swipes the test of the counter and it goes flying, hitting the tiled wall and falling into the bathtub, face down.

Somehow, the physical distance between Angie and that little plastic stick is now too great to cross. Angie silences her phone alarm and stands, trying to catch her breath, feeling as her heart pounds painfully in her chest.

The rest of the memories come flooding back.

Derek climbing onto his tour bus with his bandmates and abandoning her, tossing her belongings out onto the sidewalk before speeding away. The complete and utter destruction of her life, realizing she’d skipped out on college and friendships and basically everything else in her life just so she could be with this stupid air head wannabe rock star.

Angie fought her way through that pregnancy, somehow managing to find work (and some luck at the casinos) and keep herself afloat. Starting from nothing, she put herself through college, raised her son, and ended up repairing the damage done to her life. But it nearly killed her.

And she doesn’t think she can do that again.

The conclusion comes swiftly and painfully, like a slap to the face: This test cannot be positive. It will ruin everything. Will will leave her, he’ll hate her, she’ll be alone again and it will be her own fault. Angie feels herself hyperventilating but her thoughts are already spiraling anyways. Will has a perfect life, and this won’t fit in it. He’s going to be disappointed in Angie, or angry, or he’ll say nothing and just leave her out on the sidewalk like Derek.

Angie grips the bathroom sink with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to control her breathing. A sickly feeling of dread and nausea rolls up from her toes to her head, rocking her body forward, and she hasn’t had a panic attack in a very long time but this feels dangerously close.

Angie has no idea how much longer she’s standing there for before she finally gets a grip and decides to look at the test. She’s just reaching over to grab it when she hears noise from the front door.

Within a few seconds, her front door is opening, and Angie hears Will.

“Angie?”

She can hear his voice from the living room. Her heart jumps, and the dread of the moment is infused with panic, because it feels like she just texted him a few minutes ago and how did he get here so fast? She left the bathroom door ajar when she came in here, so she calls out weakly, “I’m in here.”

There’s a pause, and Angie can practically hear his thoughts as he quickly kicks off his shoes and rushes to find her. Even in those three little words, he could hear the tone of her voice.

When Will’s face appears in the crack between the door and the wall, Angie feels an unexpected tiny wave of relief. Because it’s _Will_ , and he’s always the person she turns to when she’s scared. A tiny part of her recognizes the humor in this situation; This was supposed to be their romantic anniversary celebration, and he’s arrived to find Angie a complete mess, having a panic attack in her bathroom, about to show him the pregnancy test that might end their relationship.

Will hesitates outside the door, pushing it further open but not stepping into the bathroom.

“Angie?” She can hear the panic in his voice, and she wants to say something, but has no idea what she even _could_ say, so she goes to him instead. He opens her arms to her reflexively, pulling her against his chest, not saying anything, because he’s so good at just being there for her when he needs it.

Will’s hand rubs a slow, comforting circle on Angie’s back, and just the gentle sweetness of the gesture pulls out a sob she didn’t know she had inside of her, and then the tears just start rolling. She _hates_ crying in front of other people, but with Will it’s never so bad. He stands there with her in the hallway for a full minute, not saying anything, until she’s able to calm her breathing. She can feel Will swaying slightly, his rhythm soothing, and she just wants to stand like this forever, because he just knows her so well.

Of course, this also means, he knows she has a tendency to avoid talking about things she really needs to talk about. Which is why he eventually speaks.

“Angie,” he says softly, pulling back just slightly so he can look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” He pauses for a minute and then adds, “Are you really feeling that sick?”

Oh yeah. As afar as Will knows, she’s just home with the stomach flu. No wonder he looked so apprehensive walking into the bathroom.

The thought is kind of funny, and when Angie opens her mouth to speak, it’s a cross between a cough and a laugh, and she feels a snot bubble blow out of her nose, because she’s always a snotty mess when she cries. Will seems to take the cue from Angie, giving a cautious smile.

“Well, okay, all of this is so stupid,” Angie starts. Her voice sounds hoarse. “It’s stupid because I don’t even know if it’s true or not, it’s just a hunch, but before I could find out I panicked, and then you were here, and I was crying, and-”

“Angie,” he interrupts gently. “What’s happening?”

Angie opens her mouth to speak but then gets stuck on deciding whether she should explain why the pregnancy test is in the bathtub. She doesn’t want to be the one to pick it up, so she just gestures and says “Surprise.”

Will looks over Angie, who’s standing between him and the bathtub, and it takes him a few seconds to see the stick laying on the ground. His eyes widen instantly.

“Oh my God. _Oh my God._ Angie are you _pregnant?_ ”

“ _NO,_ ” is Angie’s knee-jerk response. Then, “Well, maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t looked at it I’m too scared.” The adrenaline from the past twenty minutes is running on fumes, and she doesn’t know how much more of this she can take.

Will’s eyes flick over to hers, and he looks terrified and confused, but also very concerned for Angie, and is that a tiny hint of a smile on his face?

“Angie, we have to look at it. Do you really think you could be pregnant?”

“Well like…I don’t know, eight weeks late? And between Christmas break and our weekend trip last month, there’ve been a lot of pretty drunk nights...”

Angie watches this information settle on him, and while she may be the type of person to put off problems for later and stay in denial, he is most certainly not, and she knows he’s desperate to just go flip over the test and see what it says.

She steps to the side so Will can get past and leans her back against the wall, feeling herself sink to the floor.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Will crouches down to join Angie on the floor, his hand reaching over to take hers.

“Angie. Is that why you were crying?”

Angie sighs.

“I know it’s stupid. I just…the last time I had to take one of these things, I was abandoned at a gas station. And everything was going so good between us, I just couldn’t imagine something messing that up. But of course, the universe has it in for me like always.”

“Angie.” His response is immediate. He doesn’t break eye contact, and takes both of her hands in his. “Angie, things _are_ going well. Present tense. Whatever that test says, it won’t change that. I am _not_ Derek, and I’m not going to abandon you. If it’s true, if you’re really pregnant, then it’s _our_ baby. And I’m just as much responsible for it as you. Got that?”

His words are calming but also spike Angie’s heart rate again, because the phrase “our baby” makes it all sound so real. Before she can think, she hears herself speak.

“Just go read the test so we can figure out if we’re freaking out over nothing please.”

Will doesn’t need to be told twice. He jumps to his feet and disappears into the bathroom, leaving Angie on the floor in the hallway. She screws her eyes shut wishes more than anything that she could skip to five minutes from now, when all this waiting would be over.

There’s a pause of several seconds, and Angie doesn’t know what that means.

“Will?”

He steps out into the hallway, his face pale like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Ange, you’re pregnant.”

Okay, so their big anniversary dinner hasn’t quite ended up the way they planned it. But Will is okay with that.

After they read the test, there had been more tears from both of them. Will repeated the same things over and over again to her, that he’s not going to leave her, that he loves her. But he’s not sure how much of it Angie actually heard. Eventually, Will pulled himself and Angie up off the hallway floor, pressing a kiss to her forehead and suggesting that she take a shower, wash her face, and taka minute to calm down.

“I’ll go to the restaurant and get them to pack up all the food to go,” he’d suggested, but Angie’s eyes had widened, suddenly panicked again.

“Please don’t leave,” she’d whispered, and the only thing Will wanted was for her to stop looking so terrified, so he agreed, and went to the living room to call and ask for delivery.

Now he’s sitting on her couch, changed into the set of pajamas he always keeps at her place.

Angie emerges from her room, dressed in sweatpants and one of Will’s t-shirts that she’d probably pilfered from his house. She pads over to the couch and sits down opposite of Will. Her damp hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she looks _so_ pretty, and the genuine first thought in Will’s head is _I can’t believe I’ve gotten to date this person for six months._ The only thing he wants to do in the entire world is pull her close and kiss her, but he knows they both need to say some things first.

“Angie,” Will starts. “We should talk. Well, we already talked, but we should have a conversation where we’re not both crying.”

She gives him a wry smile.

“Duh.”

Seeing her smile is a relief, because since he’s come over here, she’s looked nothing but miserable.

“Angie, I should’ve said this earlier, but if you’re not ready to have this baby—I mean, I would understand if… if you didn’t want to keep it.”

“Is that what you want?” She seems caught off guard by the question.

“ _No._ ” the word comes out a bit more forceful than he wants. He takes a breath and tries again. “Angie, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than these six months. Probably since I met you. You’re an amazing mother, and one of the strongest people I know. I know you could do it. I know _we_ could do it,” he corrects himself.

Angie doesn’t say anything. Will remembers what she said earlier, about the last time she took a pregnancy test and how she was abandoned. So he continues.

“And Angie, no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m in love with you. And I will _love_ this baby. Just because it’s happening sooner than we would’ve ever expected doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be.”

Angie scoots over to Will, and he can feel his heart pounding. What they decide now is going to change the rest of their lives.

“Okay.” The word comes out so quietly that she practically whispers it, and when Will looks at her, he sees a mixture of worry and determination, and possibly even the hint of a smile.

“Okay what?” he asks.

“Okay let’s have a baby.”

And something about that little sentence short circuits Will’s brain just a little. Before he knows what he’s doing he pulls her in for a kiss, arms wrapping around her tightly. She leans into it, hands splaying across his chest. Her lips are soft and her skin is smooth and damp from the shower, and he is just so relieved that she’s not crying anymore; he hates to see her hurting. Both of them release a sigh of relief, the anxiety of the past half an hour dissipating, even just for a moment.

They stay like that for several minutes, and Will thinks, not for the first time, that he could kiss Angie D’Amato forever and not get sick of it. It’s his favorite thing in the world.

There’s a knock at the front door. Food delivery. Will pulls out of the kiss, giving Angie a smile before standing and going to open the door.

They eat fancy Italian food in their pajamas in Angie’s living room. Will knows Angie well enough to know she does not want to talk more about the pregnancy right now, and he’s okay with that. They’ll have a long time to discuss the big things. Right now all he cares about is being with her. They snuggle under a blanket on the couch and make their way through three episodes of some godawful television show that Angie heard has a great twist ending that makes the whole thing worth it. During the break between episodes, she wriggles out of his arms and heads to the kitchen to get water.

“Hey,” Will hears Angie call from the sink. A moment later she pops her head in from around the corner. “Did you want wine?”

She says it with a tiny sarcastic smile, gesturing to her own glass of water.

“Angie, I’m not gonna drink without you,” Will replies with a laugh. She grins, and comes back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water for him as well.

“No wine for nine months,” she mutters out loud and she climbs back onto the couch. “Ouch.”

As she lays her head against his chest, Will feels his heart explode into a thousand little butterflies. She’s giving up drinking (arguably one of her favorite past times) for their baby, and he owes her a million times over for everything, and he can’t wait to make it all up to her. He’s already doing the mental math of when this baby is due, and who should move in with who, and—wait, should he propose? Does that even matter right now? There are a million thoughts in his head, but there’s one that sticks out as the most important of all:

_I love Angie D’Amato. And nothing can change that._


	2. Week 6: Sweet Pea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 6: 2/1-2/7
> 
> Fluff followed by smut followed my fluff. Basically a fluff sandwich.

When Angie wakes up, the bed next to her is empty.

She sits up, her stomach churning, and pulls her night stand drawer open, grabbing the pregnancy test.

_Okay._ Okay, so this is real, she didn’t imagine it. And Will. Where’s Will? She feels a familiar wave of panic roll up in her stomach, because maybe he’s left. Maybe he panicked or something and ducked out in the middle of the night, or maybe he got sick her being such a blanket hog (something he complains about _all_ the time), and slept on the couch and will be annoyed at her all day. Both thoughts, she knows, are ridiculous. But she propels herself out of bed, and when she opens the door, she’s hit with the small of food cooking, and rounding the corner she can see Will standing at the stove, humming to himself. He turns around, holding a plate stacked with pancakes, and looks surprised to see Angie.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be up for a while.”

She glances at the clock on the wall, and notices it’s only 8am. Unusually early for Angie on a weekend. She and Graham don’t usually get up to watch cartoons until 11. Angie doesn’t say anything, but what she really needs right now is a hug. A physical reminder that Will’s still here, and she can stop being so freaked out.

“Yeah, I just…” Angie can still feel her heart pounding from her moment of panic upon waking up, and she _hates_ feelings and vulnerability, but the truth comes spilling out before she can think.

“I thought you’d left.”

Will’s face goes through like five shades of confusion, then understanding, then concern, and he puts the plate down on the counter and closes the gap between them in a second, wrapping his arms around her.

“Angie,” Will whispers against her forehead. “I will never leave. I promise you, this is not going to be like it was with Graham. I am going to be here for every single moment.”

Angie allows herself to stand there for a moment, just breathing in the smell of him and allowing her breathing to return to normal. But she’s determined not to be a sappy wimp all morning, so she pulls back, and notices a legal pad sitting on the kitchen table, scribbled with Will’s handwriting.

“Now it really won’t be like it was with Graham,” she said with a chuckle, going to pick it up. “I certainly had no itemized lists with him. Just ate a lot of junk food and floated around in Vegas.”

Will doesn’t say anything, but she sees him wince. He doesn’t like hearing about all the things she had to go through alone. It always makes him sad.

“Don’t get freaked out by that list,” Will insists, and he pulls out a chair for Angie at the table. “I just…needed to get my thoughts on paper. Because I’m a planner, and I know you’re not a planner, but I like to know what’s going on so I’m sorry if that’s overwhelming, but-”

“Will,” Angie interrupts gently, placing a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t freak me out. I’m glad you’re a planner. It’s probably good because I’m a mess. I know we should’ve talked about…everything last night, but I just didn’t know where to start. Yesterday morning was the first time I even considered that this was a possibility, and now this is happening and it’s real, and I have no idea what we’re supposed to do first.”

They lock eyes for a moment, and after a moment, both grin.

“Okay, so at least we’re both a little terrified then,” Will says. “That’s good.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. I don’t really believe it.”

Will puts a plate of food in front of her, and a warm mug. Without looking, Angie grabs the mug to take a sip, and immediately spits it back out because that is _not_ coffee.

Oh. Duh. She’s not supposed to drink coffee now.

Will gives an apologetic smile, and sits down opposite of her with his food.

“I found the tea in the back of one of your cabinets. I don’t think it’s expired. I don’t even know if you like tea.”

“Only old grandmas should like tea, Will. But I’ll take it over nothing.”

Will smiles and takes a sip from his own mug. A proud old grandma. Angie wonders if he’ll start knitting baby clothes soon.

Angie scoops a forkful of pancakes and lifts it to her mouth, but her hand jerks to a stop before she can take a bite. The smell of the pancakes is suddenly _very_ sweet, _sickly_ sweet, and she feels her stomach flip.

Angie drops her fork and pushes back her chair, taking in a shaky breath.

“Angie, what’s wrong?” Will’s voice is panicked, and he stands up too.

Angie gives herself a moment, and the nausea calms down, bubbling away quietly in her stomach. Angie looks over at Will.

“I just think you should know, I had _terrible_ morning sickness with Graham.”

_Ugh._ She is so not looking forward to that again. She pushes the plate away from her.

“Do you want something else?” Will questions hurriedly. “I can make something, or go get something, or we could go out somewhere-”

“I’m fine. I promise.” Angie sits back down in her chair and forces herself to take a sip of tea. “I just… I might need a little time before I can eat anything.”

Will nods, and Angie feels the intensity of his sympathetic gaze boring a hole through her, so she pivots the subject.

“What’s on the notepad?”

“Oh, uh, just a list of things I was thinking about. Questions that we have to answer at some point.”

“Questions to answer? Can we make this process into a game show like you did when you were helping the kids study last week? Because I think that would make it significantly more fun.”

That gets a smile out of Will.

“Ask me a question,” Angie says. “Gimme what you got.”

“Okay,” Will says, picking up his notes and scanning down the list. “Question number one: We should schedule a doctor’s appointment.”

“That’s not a question.”

Will smirks and tries again.

“Should we schedule a doctor’s appointment?”

“Eh, I’d rather put that chore off indefinitely,” Angie answers.

Will makes the sound of a game show buzzer.

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect. The answer is yes we definitely should and it won’t be that bad.”

Angie laughs at his game show announcer voice. But he’s not funny enough to make her less annoyed at the thought of going to the doctor’s.

“Ugh. Of course you started with making appointments, my _least_ favorite thing in the world. I can call my OBGYN on Monday.”

“Do you have any idea how many weeks—Er, do we know exactly…when this happened?” Will

The question gives Angie pause. Of course she’s terrible about tracking these things, so she can’t really be sure.

“Um, I don’t really know. I only noticed yesterday that I was late. But I’ve been feeling sick all week. And there’s been a few nights when it…could’ve happened.”

“Probably that night last month--”

“When the kids were at Poppy’s,” Angie finished. Yup, that night had been filled with a lot of alcohol and not a lot of caution.

“Okay, so we call the doctor on Monday,” Will says, and he flips to another page on the notepad and scribbles something down.

“Okay, next question,” Angie says. “Gimme a softball.”

Will smiles, and scans his list for a moment before asking, “Would it be okay if I texted Poppy and asked her to keep the kids until this afternoon, so we can have some more time?”

“Please do.” Thinking about Poppy brings up a fresh wave of anxiety in Angie. “Ugh I don’t think I can face Poppy right now. She’ll totally know something’s up with me.”

“Well it’s a good thing you answered that correctly, because I already texted her. She said she can watch the kids until four.”

Angie suddenly gets a very clear picture of what this experience is going to be like. Will really is a planner, and he’s already thought of everything.

“Next question,” she says. “How am I doing on points, by the way? Is that how this game works?”

“Hmm,” Will considers. “I haven’t solidified a scoring system, but I think you’ve got around a million points so far. Also, there are no wrong answers and you’re my only contestant.”

He is such a goofball. Even when he’s doing something serious, the joking dad side comes out of him. Angie can see him deciding what to ask her next, and knows from his face that he’s nervous.

“Okay. So. This one’s not a softball. Or maybe it is, I don’t know. Probably more of just a…normal ball. We should move in together, right?”

Angie’s stomach does another flip. She’s shocked she didn’t think of this before he asked.

“Um, yeah? I mean, yes, I think that’s a good idea,” Angie says firmly. Because duh, it’s a good idea. The last six months have been largely preoccupied with the two of them desperately trying to find time together, balancing work and kids and living in separate neighborhoods. It makes sense. It will make things so much easier.

“Okay, follow up question.” Will puts the legal pad down on the table and reaches across to take Angie’s hand.

“Angie, will you move in with me?” After he says it, he adds nervously, “Because I have three bedrooms, and my house is closer to the school and everything…”

“Yes, definitely your house,” Angie affirms.

Oh God. Yesterday Will was just her boyfriend. But then again, just six months, ago, he was only her friend. Now she’s pregnant and they’re moving in together?! She can’t believe how quickly things change.

But then another thought occurs to Angie.

“Wait, we can’t move in together before we tell everyone, can we?”

“What, tell everyone you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah! They’ll totally figure it out.”

“I think you’re overestimating our friends’ deductive reasoning powers.”

“I think you’re underestimating how nosy Poppy can be.”

“Fair point.” Will taps his chin in thought. “So we wait, go to the doctor, find out when we can tell people, and then after that we move in together?”

“When do we tell the kids?”

“About what, the baby or the moving?”

“This is too many questions!” Angie stands up, bracing herself by placing her hands on the table. The warm bubbling nausea in her stomach is rising again. Will stands too, trying to read what’s happening. Angie’s just trying to figure out whether she’s about to vomit. She sucks in a couple of breaths, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Sorry, this has nothing to do…with the questions,” Angie murmurs, pausing halfway through the sentence for a shaky breath. “Whoo boy, okay, I’m just gonna walk over to the living room and away from the food because otherwise I’m gonna barf.”

Will, clearly relieved that he has something to do, grabs their plates of barely touched food and dumps them in the trash, and then follows Angie to the living room and opens the two front windows.

Angie lowers herself down onto the couch, counting her breaths and willing everything in her stomach to stay put. She feels the couch shift as Will sits down beside her, but doesn’t move, the nausea sending her body rocking forward. She manages to get in under control, calming her breathing after a minute or two. Will doesn’t say anything, but she knows he’s waiting to be told what to do.

“Sorry, I wasted all the food you cooked,” Angie says, hoping it comes out like a joke.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s my fault.” Will sounds genuinely sorry. As if waking up early to make her breakfast was so irresponsible of him. “I just… well, Mia didn’t really have a lot of morning sickness. I didn’t know.”

Angie’s stomach feels a little better for the moment. Enough that she can sit up a little and turn to look Will in the eye.

“I think I need a little break from the questions.”

The day passes by slowly, but not in a bad way. They stay on Angie’s couch, watching TV and not discussing the scary questions. Angie knows it’s all Will wants to do, but what she needs right now is to just be with him. And she wants to see Graham. She finds herself really excited when 4pm rolls around and they go to get the kids from Poppy’s. Angie packs a bag for her and Graham, and they all end up at Will’s house for the night. It’s a Saturday night after all, so it’s not unusual.

Will lets Angie pick what they have for dinner, and she finds herself surprisingly hungry (probably since she ate nothing for breakfast). They order pizza and play board games with the kids, and Angie is surprised at how normal she feels. There is one moment that evening, while they’re playing a particularly exciting round of Candyland, when Will puts his hand on Angie’s knee, a common habit of his. But after a moment, his palm slides gently up her leg and onto her stomach, resting there for just a moment. If he notices what he’s doing, he gives no indication of it. But Angie allows herself to feel the sensation, and imagine the teeny tiny baby inside of her that Will is reaching for. And yes, the thought still scares the _shit_ out of her. But in this moment, she’s surprised to notice that she actually feels a little bit excited.

Sunday passes uneventfully, and on Monday afternoon, Will and Sophie stop by Angie’s house before dinner to drop off some cookies they baked. While Sophie and Graham are in his room, excitedly poring over the new Lego set that Derek recently bought for Graham, Will hold’s Angie’s hand while she calls the OBGYN and schedules an appointment.

“This Thursday, 1pm,” Angie confirms to the receptionist on the phone. “Yes, thank you, that’s perfect.”

She hangs up, and asks Will, “So can you pick Graham up from school on Thursday then?”

“Oh.” Will looks confused. “Did you not want me to come with you?”

Now Angie’s confused. “Did you want to come with me?”

“Of course! It’s my baby,” Will says, and then glances towards Graham’s room where the kids are playing when he realizes he was possibly a bit too loud. When Will puts it like that, it does kind of make sense. But Angie has no frame of reference for these things, because with Graham, she never had anybody to take with her to appointments.

“But it’s barely even a baby right now,” She insists. “It’s probably like, the size of a speck of dust. There won’t be anything exciting to see.”

“Angie, I want to be with you through every step of the way. And it will be exciting, because it’s _our baby_! Plus, I know you hate going to the doctors, and also hate following medical advice, so I will be there as emotional support and also to write down everything the doctor tells us to do.”

Angie grins. He’s clearly thought about this ahead of time.

“Okay, I’ll ask Poppy to get the kids.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m on it,” Will insists, slipping his phone out of his pocket.

She watches him add the appointment to his phone calendar. Then he and Sophie head home, and as she watches them drive away, Angie realizes she cannot wait to move in with them. Because the last thing she wants right now is to be apart from Will.

When Angie’s alarm goes off on Thursday morning, her stomach is a mess. It has been every morning this week, but today is the worst. She nauseous, and nervous for the doctor, and she barely slept last night. She grabs her phone to turn off her alarm, and sees she has a text from Will.

_Do you want me to pick up Graham and bring him to school?_

Angie texts back.

_Please do_

She puts the phone down, and sits all the way up in bed. _Deep breaths, D’Amato._ She can hear Graham moving around in his room, and so she shakily pulls herself out of bed. That kid’s getting cold cereal for breakfast today; if Angie has to smell anything cooking she knows she’s gonna barf.

Will and Sophie arrive by 7:45, at least twenty minutes before he needs to take the kids to school. Will has a key to her house, so he just opens the door, poking his head in cautiously like he’s trying to read the room. Angie realizes her text to him probably didn’t give very much information about how she’s feeling. The answer is she’s feeling like shit, but she doesn’t want to worry him with that.

“Hey Angie,” Sophie says brightly, kicking off her shoes by the door. “Dad said Graham and I can play for a while before we go to school.”

“Score!” Graham squeals, abandoning his food, and the two disappear into his room.

“Graham, you need to pack your backpack and comb your hair before you leave Bud!” Angie calls after him.

Will joins Angie in the kitchen, coming up behind her chair and putting his hands on her shoulders to lean down and kiss her. And he doesn’t seem to care that she has disgusting morning breath, or that her hair is a mess and she definitely does _not_ look cute right now. She thinks to herself that the taste of his lips against hers is probably one of the only tastes she can stomach right now.

“How’re you feeling?” he murmurs against her cheek.

“Gross,” she answers honestly.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“I can’t. I got one whiff of Graham’s cereal and thought I was gonna barf my guts out.”

Will stands up so he can sit down in the chair next to Angie’s.

“Does anything sound good? Can you think of something I can pick up for you? I have the morning off work. I just have to go for the live report this evening.”

Angie’s taking the whole day off of work. It’s not like she ever has reason to use her vacation days anyway, so she figured she might as well use one today. She flips through breakfast foods in her mind, and suddenly her brains hones in on the _one_ thing that sounds good right now.

“Get me a smoothie from the place across from the school?”

“What flavor?”

“Strawberry banana.”

“Consider it done,” Will says with a grin. “You know, once we live together, I can just cook us all breakfast every day. And I’ll make smoothies if you want too.”

The way he’s looking at her, like he’d do anything in the world that she asks, makes Angie’s insides melt into a puddle. She is so lucky to have him.

Will gets the kids together (and helps Graham comb his hair and pack his backpack), and herds them out to the car, promising Angie he’ll be back in twenty minutes. Angie goes to her bedroom and forces herself to put on some actual clothes. As she buttons up her jeans, she wonders if they’re actually a little tighter than usual, or if maybe she’s just imagining it. She brushes her hair up into a bun, and plops herself down in the living room. True to his word, Will’s back in twenty minutes exactly, smoothie in hand. She grabs it from him when he comes in.

It’s deliciously cold, and it she’s relieved when she takes a sip and doesn’t feel her stomach turn. Will watches her for a moment, as if also assessing whether this was a good food choice.

“So,” he asks, “Are you nervous about today?”

_No, of course not, I’m tough Angie D’Amato, a stupid doctor’s appointment doesn’t scare me,_ her brain thinks. But Will knows her too well. He’s the one person she can’t lie to anymore, because he always knows how she’s feeling. So she finds a middle ground between her usual bravado and the actual answer, which is _I’m fucking terrified._

“A little I guess. I’m kind of curious to, like, see the baby. Can you even do that at the first appointment? I don’t even remember when I went to the doctor when I had Graham.”

“I don’t know, I think I’ve forgotten everything I learned about pregnancies since my baby was born eight years ago. I have a lot of re-learning to do.”

“Let me guess, you’ve already ordered a baby book.”

Will gasps defiantly.

“I’ll have you know I’m a modern man, I’ve downloaded several baby _apps_.”

Angie raises her eyebrows, because she knows there’s more.

“Okay fine, I also ordered multiple books, okay?”

Angie laughs.

“I love you, Will. Thank you for coming with me today.”

“I love you too.” Will pulls her in for a kiss, slow and gentle and affirming, like he’s trying to prove his words with his actions. “And I wouldn’t miss this appointment for the world.”

That afternoon they’re sitting in Dr. Cheryl Patterson’s office, exam room C. Angie found this lady years ago upon Poppy’s recommendation, and she’s nice enough, but Angie _hates_ going to the doctor. She’s a tough it out kind of person, and she doesn’t like wasting time being poked and prodded, usually only to be told to go home and rest. She avoids all doctors at all costs.

But she’s _very_ glad Will is here. Dr. Patterson left the room ten minutes ago to check the results of the official pregnancy test, and Angie’s never been so nervous in her entire life. She’s more nervous than the test she took in her bathroom last week.

“It’s okay either way, Angie,” Will reminds her. She’s sitting on the exam table, and he’s standing beside her, his hands wrapped around hers. She nods, leaning her head to rest on his shoulder, feeling antsy, full of nervous jitters.

What does she even want the doctor to say? That the test is positive and she’s pregnant? The thought _terrifies_ her, because it will make everything real and official. But the thought of finding out the test was negative is…well, surprisingly, just as terrifying.

There’s a knock on the exam room door, and Dr. Patterson pokes her head in.

“Alright guys, so I got the test results back,” she says with a grin. “And you’re pregnant! Congratulations!”

Angie looks up at Will. He’s grinning like an idiot. A million feelings wash through her, but Angie notices that one of them is relief. Will’s arms are around her, one hand on her stomach, and _Oh my God_ there’s a baby in her belly.

“Your due date is September 26th,” Dr. Patterson tells them.

“September 26th?” Will asks. “I did the math last night and I thought for sure it would be October.”

“Well believe it or not, you’re already six and half weeks along,” Dr. Patterson says.

“What?” Will and Angie say at the same time. Six weeks?! It makes sense, but it also makes Angie feel stupid for not figuring this out sooner.

The doctor has more questions for them, but Angie doesn’t really remember any of it. She schedules her next appointment with the nice receptionist at the desk and follows Will out to the car in a daze. Six weeks. Baby. September. September feels infinitely far away and also way _way_ too close.

Will’s still grinning like someone who just found out he won the lottery, He holds her hand the whole way home.

“Poppy’s still has the kids,” he tells her. “Wanna come over?”

They’ve never been a super touchy-feely couple; No disgustingly saccharine pet names, no constant hand-holding, none of the things that make Angie gag when she sees other couples in public.

But today, perhaps because he can tell she needs it, Will’s kind of all over. He hasn’t broken contact with her since they got to the doctor’s office; they hold hands as he drives home, his arm is around her as he fumbles to unlock his front door, and the second they’re inside his lips are on hers.

Will’s kisses can make Angie feel a lot of different ways. His kisses can make her smile, like that time she broke down in tears because her ancient printer finally broke, and he cupped her face in his hands and whispered his consolations against her lips. Or there were kisses like that night at the cabin last month, when he pinned her against the wall and kissed her until her breath was ragged and her knees felt like they would give out.

But Angie’s favorite kind of kiss is this one; the kinds of kisses that make her feel loved. Will kisses her like she’s the most beautiful person in the world; like all her cares about is making her feel good, and she thinks she could do this forever. They end up in his kitchen, and Angie lets Will walk her backwards until she’s leaning against the wall, their lips never parting.

Will pulls back for a moment, and looks like he’s going to say something.

“What?” Angie asks.

His face breaks out into a smile. “I just can’t believe this is happening. We’re having a _baby_.” The last word comes out in an awed whisper. “I just love you so much Angie.” The way he says it, she almost forgets that this was all an accident. Like this was somehow what was meant to be all along.

Angie closes the tiny gap between them again, their mouths falling back into rhythm. Angie feels all of the excitement, nerves, and adrenaline of the past week buzzing between their bodies, and Will feels _so good,_ and her entire body feels antsy, itching to touch more of his skin.

Will’s arms on Angie’s waist trace up and down her sides, eventually working their way under the hem of her sweatshirt. Angie hums, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Will moves his kisses to pepper her neck. Angie lets her head loll to the side, her breath hitching as Will skims his finders higher under her shirt. His hands slide up to cup her breasts, and Angie feels a gasp start in her throat, but Will’s there to swallow the sound with his mouth. Their kisses are more forceful, Will’s hands moving under her shirt in all the ways that she loves. His hands easily reach around to the clasp of her bra, and he breaks the kiss for a moment, searching Angie’s eyes. She answers him with another kiss, and feels the release as her bra falls to the floor.

Their lips don’t part for even a second, and Will’s hands are back on her chest. His thumbs swipe over her nipples, and Angie feels a delicious rush of energy zing up her spine. Her moan is louder than she intends it to be, and her head falls backwards, but Will chases her lips with his, swallowing the sound as his thumbs return to rub slow circles against the hardening peaks.

Will Cooper knows how to feel a girl up, that’s for sure.

When she feels one hand drifting down towards her waistband, Angie feels her hips shift in anticipation. His fingers play with the waistband of her yoga pants, and as much as Angie wants this, she knows they can do better.

“Wait,” she gasps, her breath shaky as she pulls back from the kiss, their lips separating with an audible smack. “Can we, uh, bedroom?” Her brain function has clearly shut off, but Will gets the point.

The thing is, they’re parents. They’re busy people. And they don’t often have time for the long romantic escapades together that Angie knows they both want. They’re good at making it work. There’s been many an afternoon, just before carpool time, when Will has pressed her up against this same kitchen wall and kissed her breathless, slipping his hand down her pants and making her moan with pleasure. And although she knows the ratio isn’t quite even, Angie returns the favor sometimes too, because the sounds he makes when she touches him just right are the most amazing thing she’s ever heard. The point is, they’re good at quickies. But as much as Angie loves rushed encounters in the kitchen or on the couch (and she _really_ loves them), when they have the time to stretch it out, she wants to.

Will follows her into his bedroom, and they’re right back where they left off. There’s like ten seconds of silence as they both frantically pull of their clothing; Will pulls his shirt over his head and unzips his jeans, and Angie peels off her yoga pants. And then Will’s against her again, pushing them both down to the bed. Angie flips them over so she’s on top, straddling him, peppering his face and neck with kisses. His hands are under her sweatshirt again, tracing circles on her nipples, and _god_ it feels _so ridiculously good_. Angie brushes her hand against the bulge of Will’s boxers, and he whines into her mouth. Angie smirks against his lips. He’s always been very noisy in bed.

Angie kisses her way down Will’s chest, hooking her fingers on the waistband of his boxers. With Will’s help she pulls them off, and then turns her attention to him.

Angie traces one finger up his length, and Will mewls, rocking his hips upward. She gives him a few more strokes before leaning over to take him in her mouth.

Will has a rule. He never curses. At least, that’s what he tells everyone. But that just gives Angie a special, devious sense of satisfaction when she’s able to pull an expletive or two out of him a moment like this. She gives a firm suck, and Will’s fingers are tangled in her hair.

“Angie, _fuck,_ ” he gasps. When she swirls her tongue once around his tip, he moans, at least an octave higher than normal, and the sound sends goosebumps flying down Angie’s body. She loves this. Will’s always the supporter in their relationship; he does everything for her, and never complains. Sometimes she feels like there’s nothing she can do to repay him. But this. This is something she’s gotten quite good at.

As Angie continues to swirl her tongue, Will’s moans become more frequent and breathy, and finally she hears him stutter, “Angie, I— _fuck._ I’m too close.”

Maybe the words don’t register, or maybe she’s just enjoying herself too much to respond, but Angie leans down, taking Will’s entire length in her mouth.

“ _Fuck fuck fuck,_ Angie, wait, you have to stop,” Will’s words come in one long breath that breaks into a moan. Reluctantly, Angie obliges, giving one final stroke with her hand before crawling back up Will’s body to meet his lips.

Will’s words come out strained, scattered between their frantic kisses.

“Holy… Ange, that was so good, you’re so good…” He’s a mess, pupils blown, pawing at mindlessly at her sides, and it’s intoxicating, to see him come apart like this, and know it was her who did it.

Will tries to roll them over to he’s on top, but Angie stops him with a hand against his chest, pausing long enough to pull off her sweatshirt. Then they flip, Will balanced above Angie.

For a moment, he doesn’t do anything. Just stares at her, with that unabashed desire that sends a shiver raking through her entire body. You’d never know from looking at him when he’s in his giant-teddy-bear persona, but Will Cooper’s got moves.

Then his mouth is on her neck, sucking at her pulse point, and his fingers find their way to the waistband of her underwear. She’s wearing her ugliest underwear today, because this was _not_ how she had been expecting the day to go when she’d woken up a ball of anxiety this morning. But she could be wearing a trash bag and Will would still make her feel beautiful.

His fingers go right to where she needs them, no teasing. He curls a finger into her and presses his thumb gently on her clit. The pressure sends a wave of electricity zinging through her body, and Angie feels her back arch, her hips lifting off the bed. He rubs a couple of firm circles around her clit, and Angie mutters a string of expletives that puts Will’s to shame, as she feels the pressure mounting between her legs.

“Will,” Angie moans, reaching down to grab his forearm. “We don’t have time.”

He follows her gaze to the clock on the nightstand; 2:45. The kids will be home soon. And Angie hates herself for being such a mom that even sex is permeated with concerns about her kid, but then again, if there was ever somebody who understands that predicament, it’s Will.

He gets the message, and with one swift movement, pulls her underwear down her legs, and then crawls back up to position himself over her.

“Hey,” Angie whispers up at him. “Guess we don’t have to use a condom anymore.”

Will smirks.

“Like the whole condom thing even worked for us the first time.”

They don’t say anything else, just take a moment to breathe. Then Will lowers himself, and Angie feels a wave of pressure release as their bodies connect. Will’s pace is fast, which is fine, because Angie knows neither of them is going to last very long. Angie moves a hand between her legs, circling her clit. Will’s mouth is by her ear, moaning her name into her ear between his high pitched whines. His hand is between her legs, pawing her own fingers out of the way. His thumb swipes firmly back and forth over her clit, and a long moan spills from Angie’s mouth.

“Will,” she pants, “That is…so…good.”

Angie can feel Will’s movements becoming erratic, and she allows herself to give in to the pleasure. The orgasm throbs through her entire body, rolling across every inch of her body in one thunderous wave. Will follows just a few seconds behind, collapsing on top of Angie. Her hands clench the sheets, drawing in breath after gasping breath as she lets the aftershocks pulse through her body.

Will waits for a few moments before slowly pulling out and rolling onto his back next to Angie.

“That was… _Wow_ ,” he murmurs. Angie chuckles.

“I agree. That was very… Wow.”

“Your boobs got bigger, you know.”

Angie’s hand flies to her chest.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess now that I know you’re pregnant the little signs like that seem so obvious.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “I’m so glad we got to spend today together.”

“We need to find time to do this more often.”

“We will,” he replies. “When we live together.”

And it’s the first time that he’s said that when it hasn’t made Angie panic. Now she hears the words, and they sound…surprisingly not scary.

Will reaches over and splays a hand across Angie’s stomach.

“You know it’s basically just a cluster of cells right now,” Angie tells him.

“Actually, I put all the due date info into the app I got, and it told me the baby is the size of a sweet pea. So that’s something.”

And for the first time since she first took the pregnancy test last week, everything finally settles inside Angie, and she feels herself calm. And some crazy part of her starts to think that this might actually turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on my stories in the past several weeks! After the show was officially cancelled, I debated whether I should bother writing more, and then my laptop died, and I lost all of my written stuff. After several annoying weeks, the laptop is finally back in action! And again, thank you to everyone who left feedback and stuff; knowing that people are reading and enjoying this story is my main motivation for continuing it.


	3. Week 7: Bean Sprout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 7: 2/8-2/14 
> 
> Featuring Valentine's day and moving in together.

The next few days are busy for both of them; there’s a huge rainstorm rolling through the entire state, so Will’s at work more than normal. It _kills_ him that he can’t be with Angie every second of the day. He and Sophie come over every morning to pick Graham up for school, and sometimes they swing by in the evenings to check in, but neither Will nor Angie want to disrupt their kids’ schedule more than that on school nights, so their time together is brief.

The guilt Will feels about this is physically painful at moments. Angie is pregnant with _his_ baby, and all he wants to do is shout it from the rooftops, and then take every responsibility, every worry off of her plate, because he can already tell this is going to be hard on her physically and emotionally.

Every night, after the kids go to bed, they find time, even if it’s just for fifteen minutes, to talk on the phone. There are a lot of discussions about what they should do and when. Angie just wants to tell everyone in the group, because she can’t hide anything from Poppy, and she doesn’t want the added stress of keeping their secret. Will can’t help but agree that it’s probably the best call, because if their friends knew, they could help out more with watching Sophie and Graham. Not to mention Angie and Will could get started on moving in together.

But it’s only seven weeks, and they both agree it would be a bad idea to tell the kids too early, because miscarriages can still happen, and once the kids know, every other kid and parent at school will know too.

So they come up with a timeline, even though they’re mostly making it up as they go. They decide to tell Poppy, Douglas, and Miggy at eight weeks, and the kids after the first trimester, at twelve.

The plan seems flawless, until the next morning, halfway through week seven, when Angie wakes up at 6:00am and sprints to the bathroom to vomit. This is the second morning in a row, and the early and unpleasant wakeups are seriously exhausting.

She texts Will.

_How soon can you and Soph be over here? I can’t do this morning by myself_

And the answer is _way_ sooner than Angie expected, because she hears the sound of Will’s keys in the door twenty minutes later. She’s still on her bathroom floor, laid back against the bathtub. Graham’s alarm hasn’t gone off yet, so she’s just been trying to calm her stomach. She manages to get to her feet and make it out to the living room.

Will is wearing sweatpants, probably the ones he slept in, and a wrinkled t-shirt. Sophie is dressed in her pajamas, and carrying a neatly folded stack of clothes and a lunchbox. She looks like Will just dragged her straight out of bed and into the car.

“Angie, are you okay?” Sophie asks, genuine concern in her eyes, because she’s the sweetest kid ever. “Dad said you weren’t feeling well and we had to come over right away.”

“Yeah I’m sorry if I rushed you Soph. I really appreciate you coming over here so early. I just caught a stomach bug or something and I don’t feel too great.”

Sophie nods sympathetically and goes to the kitchen table to set down the lunchbox.

“Dad packed breakfast for me and Graham, in case you don’t feel like cooking.”

“Ange, why don’t you go lay down for a few minutes, and I’ll take care of things,” Will instructs. “And Sophie, go to the bathroom and get dressed. Then you can pop the food for you and Graham in the microwave.”

Angie doesn’t need to be told twice. She slumps her way back into her room. Her eyes feel heavy, and there’s nothing she’d love more than a few more minutes of sleep, but her stomach has other ideas, and she sits down on the bed, leaning forward onto her hands as a wave of nausea rocks her forward.

It all feels exactly like when she was pregnant with Graham. Except back then, her twenty-two year old body had been younger, and she’d already been used to never sleeping, and barfing in the mornings as a result of other, alcohol related activities. She’d been able to handle it. What she doesn’t remember from her pregnancy with Graham was this wave of fatigue _._ For the last couple days, she’s just felt exhausted. She’s crossing her fingers it’ll die down soon.

There’s a soft knock on her bedroom door, and then Will pokes his head in. She can see him glance over to where the kids are eating at the table before quickly stepping into the room and closing the door. He puts a glass of water and a cup of saltine crackers on the nightstand, and his hands find her shoulders, kneading at the knots.

“Is everything okay? I didn’t want to ask in front of Sophie.”

“Yes,” Angie sighs. “I just woke up feeling _so_ sick. I don’t remember it being this hard with Graham!”

“Well, to be fair, when you were pregnant with Graham, you didn’t already have a kid and a full-time job to balance.” Will pauses for a moment, and when he continues his voice is thick with guilt. “Angie, I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning to help you.”

“You are though. You’re here now.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. I should be here all the time. We should be living together.”

“But we said we didn’t want to mess with the kids’ schedules until we told them the news.”

“Angie.” She can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “I woke Sophie up thirty minutes early, dragged her to the car in her pajamas, and told her we’d be getting ready at your house. I’ve already disrupted her schedule.”

Angie chuckles. There’s a very big part of her that does _not_ want to tell anyone yet. It feels too early, and she knows Poppy will have a thousand questions about how she feels that she isn’t ready to answer yet. But Will’s hands are stroking through her hair now, and the sensation is the first thing this morning that has actually managed to help her feel better, and she knows he’s right. She knows it’s killing him to not be here, because Will likes to be needed. He _loves_ it, actually. And right now, Angie needs him.

“Hey, I checked the app this morning, and it says the baby is the size of a bean sprout.”

Angie turns to look up at him.

“That’s so tiny!”

“Bigger than a sweet pea I guess.”

“Well clearly he’s already calling the shots around here, even if he is microscopic,” Angie jokes. “I hope you’re prepared for this exciting phase of Barfy Angie.”

Will untangles her fingers from Angie’s hair, craning his neck around to give her a kiss on the cheek. He’s not laughing at her joke, and his voice is genuine when he speaks.

“I love you, Angie. All versions of you. Including Barfy Angie. I’m gonna go get the kids to school, want me to swing back here before I go to work and bring you a smoothie?”

“Yes, that would be amazing,” Angie admits, and she lets him tuck her back under the covers, setting another alarm on her phone and drifting back to sleep.

It’s Thursday, the day of the week when Derek picks Graham up from school to spend the afternoon with him. In the past year, Derek’s really been putting in the time to help with Graham; right now he’s here every Thursdsy and Sunday afternoon, and one weekend a month, he takes Graham up to Barstow with him for the night. And his salary as a manager at Ratso’s is nothing compared to Angie’s, but he still gives her money every month.

And Graham _loves_ it, which is all that matters to Angie. Thursday mornings are usually filled with his excited chatter about whatever cool thing Derek’s taking him to do that day. Angie’s sure Will got to hear all about it this morning while she slept in.

So Angie’s free after work, and she ends up at Will’s house like she does nearly every Thursday. When she lets herself in the front door, she hears the sound of Beach Boys blasting. She kicks off her shoes and follows the delicious smell of cooking food around the corner to the kitchen. Sophie’s jumping around the room singing at the top of her lungs, holding a wooden spoon as a microphone. And Will’s belting right along with her, shaking his hips like a total dork as he stirs a pot of spaghetti on the stove.

Sophie notices her first.

“Hey Angie!”

“Hey Soph! That’s some great singing. We should take you along to karaoke sometime.”

Will catches Angie’s gaze sheepishly, and stops singing, furiously stirring the pasta.

“And you, Will, have some _great_ dance moves,” Angie adds, crossing to him to give him a quick kiss.

“Want me to get you a glass for your wine?” Sophie asks, heading to the cabinet.

“Oh, uh, nope, actually, I don’t feel like drinking wine tonight.”

Sophie spins on her heel, hands planted on her hips.

“You don’t feel like drinking wine?”

“Yeah, I mean, sometimes I just feel like drinking…water.”

“Well I can’t remember that ever being the case,” Sophie replies with a shrug. She grabs a regular glass from the cabinet and goes to the sink to fill it with water. “I know Dad buys your favorite kind when we go shopping just because you drink it so much. He calls it the ‘Angie Wine.’”

Angie can see Will smiling down at his pasta pot. They both knew hiding anything would be difficult with Sophie; this kid is too smart for her own good sometimes.

Luckily, Sophie knows nothing about pregnancy, and there’s no way she’ll put the pieces together, so they’re safe for now.

Sophie and Angie set the table, and Will strains the spaghetti and serves the food just the way everyone likes it; Sophie prefers extra butter, and Angie requires a gluttonously huge amount of cheese on top. Will switches off the music and joins them at the table.

“So are you and Graham going to move in here soon?” Sophie asks Angie. The question completely catches Angie off guard.

“Sophie, you weren’t supposed to bring that up,” Will says with a sigh. “Angie I didn’t tell her you were moving in. I just asked her what she would think of you guys staying with us for a little bit. Like a trial run.”

“I think it would be fun to have Graham here all the time,” Sophie says. “Dad said we can decorate the guest room to make it just like his bedroom at home.”

“Oh, wow,” Angie says. “Uh, a trial run sounds like a good idea. I’m glad you like the idea, Sophie. I think Graham will too.”

“Oh yeah, text Derek to drop Graham off here,” Will says. “Sophie and I made cookies for dessert.” Will, though a very mature and logical person, still hasn’t gotten over his anger with Derek, and it seems like whenever Graham comes home from an afternoon with his Dad, Will has to think of some way to re-assert his own place in her son’s life.

Sophie scrapes the last strand of spaghetti out of her bowl and hops down from her chair.

“Can I be excused Dad?”

“Yeah, just go put your dish in the sink,” Will responds. Sophie nods, dumping her dish and then disappearing into her room.

“So, me and Graham staying here for a while,” Angie muses. “How long of a while?”

“A very long while. Like a forever kind of while,” Will replies, grinning. “But I thought maybe we could start with this? Call it a ‘trial run?’ it’ll give the kids a chance to adjust. And you don’t need to worry about moving all your stuff here yet. Though we really should find a realtor soon too.”

“Ugh, I am _so_ not looking forward to actually moving. I hate packing.”

Will smirks.

“Well packing’s certainly never been your strong suit.”

Angie agrees to the trial run idea, and that Saturday, Will and Sophie show up bright and early to help them move some of their stuff over. Will lets himself in the front door, and Angie hears Graham calling to Sophie from his room that he needs help getting his suitcase zipped shut. Within a couple seconds, Will’s head pops into the bathroom, where Angie’s been sitting for the last fifteen minutes.

“Morning M’Lady,” he jokes, but his eyes are full of concern. And probably more guilt about not being here to help her.

“Hey, I’m okay dude, I promise,” Angie says, but it’s the first words she’s said all morning, and her voice comes out all hoarse and not very okay sounding. “I didn’t even throw up. Just kind of a morning habit by now.”

Will helps Angie stand up, and she follows him over to her bed, where there’s a haphazard pile of unfolded clothes.

“So is this the grand result of your packing?” Will asks.

“Uh, kind of. I got one suitcase all the way packed.” Angie gestures to the corner where there’s a zipped suitcase with the arm of a shirt and a couple socks hanging out of the front pocket.

“Okay, well we brought you a smoothie, and that’s out on the kitchen table, so why don’t you go drink that, and I’ll make this all fit,” Will replies. “Do you even know what’s in this pile, or did you just grab it?”

“I know…most of what’s in there. It doesn’t matter, I got all my work clothes into the other suitcase already.”

Angie’s almost out of the room when she remembers to add, “And you can just pull all my bras out of that pile because _none_ of them fit anymore. I need to go shopping.”

Will wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “See? Told you they were bigger.”

Angie narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms.

“This is all your fault Will Cooper.”

Luckily he gets the joke and doesn’t go all sad eyes on her again. Instead he just chuckles.

“And I’m doing my best to make it up to you Ange.”

The entire day is consumed with moving into Will and Sophie’s house. The kids, already on board with the idea, are thrilled when Will lets them move around and redecorate the guest room to make it exactly like Graham’s room back home. Angie, for her part, puts all of her stuff in Will’s closet, and then lays down on his bed and takes a nap.

And just like usual, Will’s on top of everything, not bothering her until the afternoon, when he insists that she eat some lunch. The four of them bake heart shaped Valentine’s cookies, and spend the evening eating Chinese takeout and watching TV. The entire time, Angie can’t help but feel so incredibly relieved that she and Graham don’t have to go home after all of this. That this just _is_ home for right now.

Sophie and Graham fall asleep on the couch, heads tucked together. Will easily scoops up a snoring Sophie in his arms, but stops Angie when she goes to grab Graham.

“Aren’t you like, not supposed to lift heavy weights?” He whispers over Sophie’s head.

“I don’t think it matters right now. What, am I gonna hurt the baby?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know, but let’s just play it safe. After all it’s only the size of a bean.”

Will puts the kids in their beds, and Angie heads to his room. She changes into some sweatpants (kind of exciting that she has her own drawers here now, filled with all her favorite sweatpants), and wriggles under the covers, scrolling through Twitter on her phone. Then Will pops in, sheepishly carrying his note pad.

“Hey, so I know we just spent the whole day moving you in here and stuff, but I was wondering if we could, uh, go through a couple more baby questions together?”

Angie groans, but doesn’t put up a fight, because she owes him like a million favors right now. He climbs on the other side of the bed, and Angie puts down her phone.

“Okay, starting with a softball,” Will says with a small smile. “Should I just text everyone and say you’re living here now?”

“No, I’d better text Poppy myself because she’s gonna have a thousand questions for me.”

“Okay, I’ll text the guys. Tonight?”

“Tomorrow. I feel like procrastinating.”

Will smirks as he crosses something off of his list and then scans for his next question.

“By the way, the baby sprouted arms and legs this week. Pretty exciting stuff.”

Angie looks down at her flat stomach. Somewhere in there is a tiny, bean sized baby with arms and legs and a little beating heart. She doesn’t believe it.

“Okay, moving on: Angie D’Amato, will you be my Valentine?”

Angie blinks at Will, confused.

“What?”

“Well I know this sounds like forever ago, but if you remember, we had a very fancy dinner reservation for our six month anniversary that we sort of had to abandon. But tomorrow is Valentine’s day, and I managed to get reservations.”

Woah. Where has the time gone? Angie would’ve sworn it was only the first week of February. She smirks

“Is this gonna be one of those situations where I say yes, and you say ‘Great! Because I already asked Poppy to watch the kids!’”

Will laughs and nods his head.

“Well actually I texted Miggy. Apparently him and Homily and Brendan no longer ‘buy into the American commercialism of romantic holidays.’” Will does an impression of Homily that makes Angie giggle.

“Yes, Will Cooper,” she says, crawling over to his side of the bed for a kiss. “I will be your valentine.”

Angie’s never lived with someone else before. Well obviously she used to live with Derek in a van, but she doesn’t really count that as the same thing. She didn’t get the college roommate experience, and she’s never moved in with a boyfriend. So she’s struck for the first time how weird it is to get ready for a date with someone you already live with. One of her favorite things about going out with Will is when he comes to pick her up and she gets to open the front door and watch his face when he says whatever smokin’ hot outfit she’s got on. But this time she’s just in his bathroom, zipping up her dress and inspecting herself in the mirror.

Perhaps, she thinks to herself resignedly, this is just one of the results of moving in with someone and having a baby with them; eventually all of the romance will be crushed by domesticity.

But she has to admit, Will’s pretty good at the whole domesticity thing. It’s her first Valentine’s day with him, and knowing how incredibly mushy about things he can be, she hadn’t been sure what to expect. But Valentine’s day has been so fun. This morning, he woke the kids up with pancakes. He’d gone put in pink food coloring and made them heart-shaped, which made Angie smile, even though she opted to sit in the other room away from the food, so she didn’t vomit. Will doled out candy hearts and chocolate, and he’d bought little gifts for everyone; a new Lego set for Graham, a picture book for Sophie, and surprisingly, a teddy bear for Angie. The gift surprised Angie, until Sophie, once again too smart for her own good, commented, “Dad, that’s the kind of gift you get for a baby, not a girlfriend. Angie, I apologize for my dad. But then, you’ve seen what he gets me for Christmas every year; gift giving’s never been his strong suit.”

The teddy bear is on Angie’s nightstand (well it’s the nightstand she’s using at Will’s house, which doesn’t quite feel like hers yet). The perfect gift for a baby.

Angie’s really excited to go out tonight, all dressed up and fancy. She’s not so excited that her favorite dress is definitely already tight on her. When complains about this to Will through the bathroom door, he tells her, “I read on the app that bloating is normal at this point. It’s normal for people to go up a pant size.”

“Dude, you are not helping here,” Angie replies with an eye roll, pushing the bathroom door open. “I want to feel beautiful tonight, not like some bloated pregnant lady.”

Will’s sitting on the bed as she walks out. When he sees her, he stands immediately, and the look on his face… Well, to be clear, Will Cooper is not a good liar. So when she sees his eyes light up, his face filled with excitement and love, Angie believes it.

“Angie,” Will says, and he’s wearing her favorite shirt of his, the blue button down that so perfectly suits his figure. One time, in the midst of a very heated make out session, Angie ripped that shirt open so quickly the buttons popped off, but of course Will had a sewing kit in his closet and was able to fix them. Will doesn’t finish his thought, just closes the space between them to kiss her.

“I like your shirt,” Angie mumbles against his lips. She can feel Will’s smile.

“I like your everything,” he says back. “You look so beautiful, Ange.”

Angie pulls back to look at him, and suddenly she’s reminded again of how quickly things can change. Last Valentine’s day, exactly 365 days ago, they were just recovering from their awful friend separation, fighting with each other as they attempted to help with the kids’ Valentine’s fundraiser. One year ago today, Will was trying to set Angie up with another man.

Now they’re here.

“Shall we get the kids and go?” Will asks.

They load the kids into the car and drop them off at Miggy’s place, then drive to the fancy French restaurant. It’s the first time in three weeks that they’ve been out without the kids, but it feels like it’s been forever. And it all just feels so amazingly normal, going out on a date together for Valentine’s day, not having to worry about the thousand other things she’s supposed to be dealing with.

The waiter tries to sell them on ordering fancy wine, but Will politely declines. Angie orders a Shirley Temple, her favorite drink when she was younger, and before she had discovered the miracle of wine.

“So,” Will says, “You know it’s kind of weird because normally when we’re on dates, I haven’t seen you all day and we have a thousand things to catch up on. But we’ve basically spent every second together the last couple days. Not that I’m complaining, of course,” he tacks on quickly.

Angie grins.

“I’m not complaining either, Cooper.”

“By the way, did you check your email today? I got a reminder from Lance Bass Space Camp. The deposit is due next week.”

“Aw crap, I completely forgot about that. Remind me to write the check later.”

“Well, should we send the kids? What if the baby comes early or something and they’re still at camp?”

“Will, the camp ends the first week of August. That’s like seven weeks before the due date. Besides, we have to make the decision before we tell the kids about the baby, so we can’t really get their opinions.”

“Yeah, I just wonder if it’s a good idea to send them away for the summer right before such a huge change.”

“Honestly, I think by that point we’ll be happy to have them out of the house Will. Picture our epic childless summer from two years ago, except if all the fun activities were just boring things like us putting together a crib and buying a car seat.”

Will smiles at that, because of course the idea of doing those things thrills him.

“Okay, let’s send the kids to camp then.”

“Child-free summer, here we come!”

“After which we get an extra child to make up for it,” Will adds with a laugh.

Angie’s next thought slips out of her mouth before she has time to think about it.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think we should wait longer to tell people.”

“Really?” Will asks. “I thought you were afraid of Poppy figuring it out.”

“I am. She’ll know something’s off with me right away. But I was reading an article that said--”

“Wait, Angie, were you doing _research?_ ” Will feigns sarcastic shock. “You were just making fun of me for that yesterday!” Angie laughs.

“That’s because you sit in bed every night reading like a million chapters of baby books. And I stand by my statement that that’s overkill, and you’re a nerd.”

Will accepts defeat.

“Okay, so you don’t want to tell people yet.”

“Not until the end of the first trimester.”

“Which is four weeks from now.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I think we can do that.”

“And I think we should tell Sophie and Graham first.”

Will is surprised by this.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean no offense to our friends, but they’re terrible at keeping secrets. Remember how Emma and Amy found out Poppy and Douglas were dating? Those two are terrible at hiding things! I don’t want our kids finding out about this because one of our friends lets it slip.”

“I remember how excited Graham was last year when he found out he had a ‘half-sister,’ Phoebe the turtle,” Will says. “Hopefully he’s still on board with that when it comes to a real baby.”

“He’ll be fine. He just asked me the other day if we could babysit baby Jack again.”

Will smiles. Angie loves his smile. She wonders for a moment if this baby will have the Will Cooper smile.

They manage other things to talk about besides the baby, which is a relief to Angie, who gets a little panicked if she thinks about it for too long. They share cake for dessert and then stop at Walmart on the way home to pick up a few things. Their dates together usually involve doing chores; life of a single parent, Angie supposes.

They work their way down the breakfast cereal aisle, Angie grabbing anything she thinks she might be able to stomach in the mornings. “So when you were pregnant with Graham,” Will asks, “Did you have like a nickname for him or anything?”

“Yeah, I just called him my little dude. Or sometimes 'Tiny Demon Spawn' when I was in a bad mood. But that was only when I was sure he didn't have ears to hear me.” Will laughs. “What about you?”

“Mia and I called Sophie ‘Peanut.’ Maybe it would be fun to have a nickname for this baby too.”

“Um… I can’t think of any.”

Will looks directly next to him at the cereal shelf. The closest box is called Sprout cereal, and has a picture of a baby on the front of it. Angie can see his heart melt at just the picture, because her boyfriend is the biggest softie in the universe.

“How about Sprout?” he suggests.

“Sure,” Angie replies. “Actually, that makes sense, because didn’t you say the baby was the size of a bean sprout this week?”

“I did! It’s fate.” Will grins.

“Okay, Baby Sprout it is.”

They get to Miggy’s place around 11pm, so the kids are exhausted and go right to sleep when they get home. Angie squeezes out of her frustratingly tight dress into her PJ’s and climbs into bed to scroll through Twitter. She’s deliriously exhausted (she has been for the last several days), so before Will’s even out of the bathroom, she turns off the lamp on her side of the bed and lays down. She’s half asleep by the time she hears him come in.

Before he climbs into bed, Will walks over to Angie’s side and leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight Angie,” he whispers. “Goodnight Sprout.”

The last thing she thinks before drifting to sleep is that Will Cooper is the sweetest man in the entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry they're so few and far between, summer classes are kind of kicking my butt. As always, I love any feedback or suggestions you may have :) Here's a question I'd love to hear your answers on: What do you imagine Angie's childhood was like? Did she grow up with two parents? One? None? Any siblings? I'm going to have to make some stuff up on that front.


	4. Week 8: Raspberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 8: 2/15-2/21
> 
> Will and Angie adjust to living together and decide who they should tell first about the baby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll, this chapter got long and rambly, so I'm sorry. I think I just have so many ideas for what to put in each chapter that sometimes they get a little hectic with all the jumping around. Hopefully it all works :)

They’ve all been living together for almost a week, and Will’s still trying to get the hang of the morning routine. Angie’s always the first one up, trying to sneak to the bathroom without waking him up.

Today she’s unsuccessful, and Will wakes up to the sound of the bathroom door slamming closed behind her around 6:30. He slips out of bed and goes to knock gently on the door.

“Ange? You okay in there?”

The response he gets is one long, drawn out groan, which makes him smile but also makes his stomach twist in guilt. Angie’s always had a penchant for the dramatic, and he’s pretty sure she’s okay, but he hates that he can’t help her with this stupid morning sickness. Although whoever came up with the name “morning sickness” has clearly never been pregnant before, because the term that’s more appropriate would be “all the time sickness.” The last couple days, it seems like Angie’s constantly nauseous. Last night at dinner, the kids picked up on it when she just pushed the food around on her plate. Angie just said she wasn’t feeling well, which is an excuse she and Will have been using a lot lately. They need to be better at hiding things, or else the kids will think Angie’s seriously ill or something.

“Okay, I need to go get the kids up, text me if you need anything,” Will says to the bathroom door, making sure to grab his phone off the nightstand as he leaves.

Will goes to Graham’s room first, because the kid takes after his mother, and is impossible to wake up.

“Good morning Graham, time to get up bud,” Will announces, flicking on the lights. He’s surprised to see Graham’s feet poking out from under the blanket where his head should be. Pulling up the blanket, he finds Graham’s head down at the other end of the bed.

“Graham, how did you manage to flip yourself completely around?” Will laughs. Graham doesn’t respond, just grabs his blanket with a groan and rolls over to face the wall.

“I’m coming back in five minutes, and you gotta be out of bed, getting dressed,” Will says, even though he’d bet money that Graham will still be asleep when he comes back.

He pokes his head into Sophie’s room, where she’s already up and picking out her clothes, then heads to the kitchen. He wishes he had more time to be creative with his cooking, but for the last few days, everything’s just been so hectic. He hasn’t had time to prepare anything more than frozen toaster waffles and fruit, which is what’s on the menu again for this morning. He goes for the coffee pot out of habit, but stops himself, remembering that he’s not doing that anymore. If Angie can’t drink caffeine, then neither will he. Or at least he’ll have the decency to drink at work where she won’t have to see…

Ten minutes later, Graham’s still not up, so Will goes into his room and takes his blanket away.

“ _Porca Miseria!_ ” Graham groans, finally sitting up in bed. When he’s exhausted his Italian side tends to come out.

“Get up Dude, there’s food waiting for you on the table,” Will tells him.

He throws strawberries, half a banana, and almond milk into a blender, along with a handful of flax seeds and a couple other random supplements that Google has told him are good for maternal health. He’s already preparing for the fight that will be getting Angie to eat healthy during this pregnancy. But when Sophie was little he had great success with just blending vegetables and things up in her food, so he’s gonna see how long that’ll last him here.

Angie doesn’t normally come out in time to eat breakfast with them. Usually he comes back from dropping the kids off at school to find her frantically grabbing her shoes and running out the door so she’s not late to work.

So Will’s surprised when Angie appears around 7:45, a full twenty minutes before he and the kids need to leave. She’s wearing old sweatpants and one of his shirts, and looks pretty miserable, her hair haphazardly piled into a bun.

“Angie, you’re awake!” Sophie says through a mouthful of waffle. “That’s unusual.”

“No it’s not. I get up early… sometimes,” Angie replies, defensive.

“No,” Graham chimes in, “Mom you’re never up before we leave for school.”

Angie scoffs, and Will just smiles down at his plate. These kids and their frustratingly good observational skills…

“Hey, I have my reasons,” Angie argues. “I’ll have you know I was up late working on a very important case for work.”

“Every night for the past week?”

“Hey, guys, let’s not interrogate Angie about her sleeping habits,” Will cuts in. “She was up late working, and anyway we all know I’m the resident breakfast chef, so she might as well sleep in.”

“Well there’s a waffle left if you want it,” Sophie says.

Angie sinks down at the table, and Will goes to get her smoothie that’s waiting on the counter.

“Everyone eat fast, we need to leave soon,” he informs them. Sophie drops her plate in the sink and disappears to her room.

“Derek’s taking me to the music store today,” Graham tells Angie. He’s been talking about it all morning. Derek’s been promising to buy the kid a guitar and teach him to play. Will’s excited at the prospect of the kids being a musical duo (Graham’s guitar and Sophie’s clarinet could sound good together, right?), but annoyed because stupid Derek is always thinking of cool things like that. He knows he shouldn’t care. Really, he knows that. But he still cares anyway. He’s already trying to think of what he could do to one-up Derek.

“That’s exciting Bud,” Angie says. “I can’t wait to hear you play some music. Just promise me you won’t do what your dad did and drop out of college to play in a terrible rock band and work at a fast food restaurant.”

“I don’t know, Mom, that sounds pretty awesome,” Graham shrugs. “Gotta go get dressed. I’m gonna wear my Derek shorts!”

Graham’s “Derek shorts” are a pair of long green basketball shorts that Derek gave Graham at some point. Will thinks Angie told him they were a gift he brought when the two first met. Now Graham insists on wearing them every time Derek’s taking him out somewhere.

Angie and Will are left alone in the kitchen. Angie sighs dramatically, but when she talks, she’s smiling.

“That kid. If I’m not careful he’s gonna be crowd surfing at Black Sabbath concerts before he hits high school.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” Will asks. He’s heard the story of the time she and Derek played hooky from school so they could drive seven hours to a Black Sabbath concert a thousand times. It’s one of Angie’s favorites.

Angie smirks, and cautiously takes a sip of her smoothie.

“Let’s just hope he learns more about career ambition from you than from Derek.”

Will chuckles, but does a triumphant little fist bump when Angie’s not looking. Score one for Will!

Will gets the kids to school and then heads to work. Looking at the radar for today, everything looks sunny and warm as usual. Will sometimes wishes he lived somewhere else that had slightly more interesting weather. Not that he doesn’t love his job, but like, a few tornadoes or snowstorms or literally anything besides mild sunny weather would be fun.

When he and Sophie first moved here, he wasn’t even been sure they’d stay for long. They’d spent the first five years of Sophie’s life traveling to wherever Mia’s work took her; New York, Canada, China, India, Kenya (also Sophie’s birthplace)… then Mia finally gave in to Will’s desire to return stateside and be close to his parents, and the three of them settled down for a year in northern California before the inevitable divorce.

After that, Mia was off the other side of the world, leaving Will to decide where to next for him and Sophie. Honestly, he found the neighborhood where they live now because Hilltop wass one of the highest rated elementary schools around, and he could just barely afford to rent a home, thanks to monthly alimony from Mia.

It didn’t seemed like a forever home, at first. The new house felt uncomfortably empty, and Will, after years of wishing Sophie could have a normal, stationary life, overcompensated by filling their house with toys. As Angie always said, he fell into The Vortex. He was in a holding pattern, waiting to find his feet again, working from him, devoting every free second to his daughter, wishing desperately for some sense of normalcy.

It wasn’t until his first Christmas in California, with the whole gang together, that it truly occurred to Will that this could be a forever home. And it wasn’t until he started dating Angie that he became totally sure.

So yeah, Will is aware he’s gonna have to accept the boring weather reports for the rest of his career, but he considers it a worthy sacrifice.

On Thursdays he only works until 3, so he heads straight from the station to pick up the kids from school. Being able to work in-person as a weather anchor while raising a kid is something else Will didn’t think would be possible until recently. When Sophie was little, he took care of her full time, because Mia’s work never kept them stationary long enough for him to find a real job (and also because being a stay at home dad really was Will’s forte). And yeah, it takes a ton of work, but he’s able to balance things now pretty well, he thinks. Mostly thanks to everyone else in the group for helping with babysitting and carpools. And his job hours are flexible, with plenty of stuff that he can do from home on his own time. So afternoon carpool duty usually falls to him or Poppy, who can always move her shifts around at the Winebrary. Sometimes if Douglas has a break in appointments he’ll help too, but he’s pretty open about not wanting messy kids ruining the upholstery in his fancy car.

Will pulls up outside the school where all the kids (Except Graham, who’s off with Derek) are waiting. He can tell as they pile into the car that he’s arrived in the middle of a deep discussion.

“All I’m saying,” Emma insists, “Is that if dinosaurs and humans lived at the same time, it would’ve been awesome. We could ride them around like horses, and make them get food for us.”

“And all _I’m_ saying is that you wouldn’t last two seconds,” Rory replies. “You’d run into one Spinosaurus and it would bite your head off.”

“Technically, if you were alive during the Mesozoic era, you’d be more likely to die from disease,” Sophie adds.

“I take it you guys continued your unit about dinosaurs today,” Will cuts in.

“Yep, and it was boring as always,” Amy says with a sigh. “I can’t wait until we get to a unit about construction, or building codes, or something else that’s actually useful.”

“Or a lesson about how to operate heavy machinery,” Emma adds. “Is that in the second grade curriculum?”

The conversation quickly returns to the debate over who would survive if they were living with dinosaurs. The conclusion they eventually settle on after a lengthy debate is that Will, Miggy, and Rory would be toast, and everyone else would probably be fine. Rory seems fine with this conclusion, stating that if he had to live in a time before tap dancing was invented, he’d be happy to sacrifice himself to the dinosaurs.

“I think I’d be fine,” Will tries to argue. “I would use my weather predicting skills to see when the meteors were coming, and take shelter.” Sophie just rolls her eyes.

They drop Rory off at the Winebrary, and then Will takes the girls to his house for the afternoon. They disappear to the backyard to play, and Will sits down at the kitchen table to go over his list.

This notepad full of questions has become his obsession in the last few days. He knows Angie’s not a planner, so he’s trying not to overwhelm her, but it’s like every three seconds he thinks of something new he needs to add. While he was at work today, it popped into his head that maybe they should move. After all, his house only has three bedrooms. But then he wondered if they could even afford somewhere with another bedroom, and then thinking about money made him wonder if Angie would want to stop working and stay home after the baby was born. He didn’t think so, but with the cost of childcare in this area, Will wondered if maybe he should take some time off of work?

It was easy to get lost and overwhelmed by it all, so Will chose to just add it to the list for later.

Douglas comes to pick up the twins around 5, and Angie’s home by 5:30. She and Sophie sit on the couch watching _Spongebob_ while Will makes dinner. It makes him so unbelievably giddy, seeing two of his favorite people in the world, just hanging out. They get into a pretty heated debate about what the secret ingredient in Krabby Patties is, and Will has to cut them off when Angie suggests maybe it’s cocaine, and Sophie asks what that is…

After they eat, Derek arrives with Graham, who’s thrilled to show off his new guitar. The kids hang out in Sophie’s room for the rest of the evening, trying to sound out music together with Graham’s guitar and Sophie’s clarinet.

Angie tries to help clean the dishes, but Will doesn’t mind doing it.

“Besides,” he argues, “You didn’t even eat anything, so you didn’t dirty any dishes.” She relents and plops herself down on the couch, and Will gets started cleaning the kitchen. He’s in the middle of wiping down the table when Angie interrupts.

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about telling your parents?”

“What, like when should we tell them the news?”

“No, like what do you think about just calling them and telling them?”

“ _Tonight?_ ”

Angie shrugs.

“Yeah, tonight.”

Will grins despite himself. His parents are the people he’s closest to in the entire world; he talks with them every week, sometimes more. Keeping this news from them has been really hard.

“I thought we were waiting,” he says, unsure of what’s prompted Angie’s change of heart.

Angie smirks.

“I’m terrible at keeping secrets. Plus your mom just texted me asking if I want to go out for brunch with her this weekend, which basically just means getting day drunk on mimosas.”

The sudden change of plans is simultaneously unexpected (because Angie has seemed determined to not talk about any of this with anyone up until now) and yet predictable (because she’s exactly the type of person to just make decisions on the fly). Will’s not complaining; he’d like to check the question “When can I tell my parents?” off of his list.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

They get the kids to bed right on time at 8:30. Will and Angie still are figuring out the bedtime system living together. Will reads both kids a bedtime story in Sophie’s room, and then Will tucks in Sophie while Angie says goodnight to Graham.

Graham’s makeshift room is starting to look a little more his style, Angie thinks to herself as he climbs into bed. He’s taped a few art projects from school haphazardly on the wall, and now there’s a brand new guitar sitting in the corner. She makes a mental note to swing by her place and pick up a few more of his things to make this room feel more like his. She wants Graham to think of this place like home.

Will and Angie wait half an hour after the kids are in bed, check to make sure they’re really asleep, set themselves up in the living room couch, and call Will’s parents.

Bud and Lucy have probably been the biggest supporters of Will and Angie since the beginning. As Lucy likes to point out to them all the time, she knew they belonged together before they even did. Will seems pretty calm, but Angie’s terrified. Up until now, this has been their little secret. And saying it _out loud_ , to _other people,_ it’s just… it’s scary. But at the same time, the last couple weeks have been filled with exhaustion, anxiety, and barf, so she’s kind of looking forward to telling people who will be excited and remind her that all of this will be worth it.

Angie also reminds herself over and over that this is different than when she had Graham. Bud and Lucy will be supportive. This is a good thing. Unlike telling her own family, which will be a whole separate challenge.

“Hey, I checked the app today,” Will says as the Skype call rings on his laptop. “Sprout’s the size of a raspberry now. Also, it has lips and a nose!”

“A raspberry,” Angie ponders. “This app isn’t very helpful, Will. What’s the difference in size between a bean sprout and a raspberry?”

Will grins and scoots closer to put an arm around her.

“No idea, Ange. Now why the heck are my parents taking so long to pick up?”

Right on cue, there’s a notification on the screen as the call connects. When the camera turns on, Will and Angie can’t see anything.

“Hello?” Lucy says. Her voice sounds muffled.

“Mom, we can’t see you,” Will says.

“You can’t what? Oh, Bud, get over here and fix this please!”

There’s several seconds of commotion as Lucy fixed the camera on her end, and soon Will’s computer screen is filled with a very close up shot of Lucy’s face.

“Okay, Mom, move the camera back away from your face,” Will instructs, and Lucy does so, eventually managing to get herself centered on screen. Bud joins her, holding a beer.

“Lucy, I don’t understand how this is so difficult for you, we facetime like every week,” Angie jokes. Lucy’s face lights up suddenly.

“Oh Angie’s here, how wonderful! What a treat to catch up with you dear!”

“And me, your precious only son,” Will chimes in, as if he’s annoyed. Which Angie knows he really isn’t. He loves that she’s close with his parents. She’s glad too. He facetimes with them at least once a week, sometimes with Sophie, sometimes with Angie. And ever since Will and Angie have officially started dating, all Bud and Lucy ever want to do is ask about how their relationship is going.

Lucy launches into a thousand questions about how everything’s going with them, and Angie glances over at Will, suddenly aware that they didn’t really plan what they were going to say here. Where do you stick news like this? Right at the end of the conversation? Or do you just come out with it and get it over with first? She knows they’ll have a million questions. Angie feels herself panicking a little, and she wishes they’d discussed this ahead of time. She looks over at Will, who also looks like a nervous mess, and raises her eyebrows at him, asking him to just get this over with.

Will gently interrupts his mom.

“Mom, Angie and I are fine, Sophie and Graham are good. We actually called for kind of a special reason.”

“Oh is this about you wanting to host our anniversary party again?” Bud asks. “Because I don’t know if forty-one years is really worth throwing another giant party.” He smirks. “Not to mention it was a little dramatic last time.”

“No, it’s not that,” Angie cuts in. “It’s uh…It’s about me and Will.” Her heart feels like it’s going to rupture out of her chest.

Lucy’s hand flies to her mouth in sudden realization.

“Are you two getting _married?!_ ”

There’s a half second pause where Angie looks at Will, and she can _see_ him adding that topic of conversation to his mental list of more things they need to talk about. She’s sure the notepad will be back out at breakfast tomorrow.

“No,” Will says, and pauses for a moment to take a breath. “It’s kind of, well, I guess it’s bigger than that actually. Angie’s pregnant.”

“WHAT?!” The response comes from Bud and Lucy at the same time.

“You’re pregnant?!” Lucy squeals, jumping up from where she’s sitting. Angie and Will nod. Despite her nerves, Angie feels herself grinning. “Oh my goodness she’s pregnant! Bud, did you hear that?!” Lucy turns and shouts right into Bud’s ear. Then she disappears from the frame, dancing around her living room. “Angie’s pregnant!”

“Congratulations you two,” Bud says with a huge smile. “How exciting that we’ll have another grandchild!”

“We just found a couple weeks ago,”” Will says. “And we haven’t told the kids yet.”

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, this is just so exciting!” Lucy’s clearly not listening to Will. “I always knew it from the second I saw you two together. You are so perfect together! I’m so happy for you two! Is it a boy or a girl? No, wait, it’s too early to tell. Do you know anything else? When are you due? Oh this is so exciting!”

“September 26th is the due date,” Angie says, hoping that’s enough of a response to Lucy’s whole speech.

“Oh that’s so far away!”

Angie feels like it’s terrifyingly close.

They talk for a while longer, but by the time it’s 9:30, Angie’s exhausted. She hasn’t even been making it to 10pm recently, especially with the unpleasant early morning wake ups.

“Alright, well, we’ve gotta go,” Will eventually butts into the conversation when Angie gives him a desperate look. “We’ll call you soon, guys.”

“Please do!” Lucy squeals. There’s a couple moments more of technology confusion as Bud and Lucy figure out how to end the call. Finally, the computer screen goes blank, and Will closes his laptop.

“So,” Angie says, feeling the grin breaking out on her face. “That went well.”

Will doesn’t respond, just pulls her in for a kiss. She wriggles closer, grabbing a fistful of his warm fuzzy sweatshirt.

“Hey Ange?” Will mumbles into her hair. And she knows him so well, can recognize the careful tone in his voice so easily, that she sort of already knows the question before he asks it. He pulls back enough to look her in the eyes. “So, I know we haven’t talked about this yet, but are we gonna tell your family?”

Ugh. Will is annoyingly effective at asking her all the hard questions.

“I don’t know,” Angie says honestly.

“You don’t know when?”

“Or if I want to at all,” Angie says. That seems to surprise Will. As soon as she says it, Angie realizes it’s probably silly. She needs to tell them, otherwise she’s just playing chicken.

Will doesn’t say anything, clearly waiting for Angie to elaborate. They come from opposite backgrounds; Will has a weirdly close relationship wit his parents; like, he takes being a Mama’s boy to the next level. Meanwhile, she’s pretty sure the last text she sent to her mom contained multiple expletives.

“You know, we can put this on the list,” Will says gently. “Talk about it tomorrow if you want. I just… we have a lot of questions to figure out.”

Angie sighs, letting her head fall against his chest. She’s not sure how to even explain it him.

“I want to tell my mom. It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about how badly she took it last time.”

“Don’t you think it’ll be different? You’re older, you have a boyfriend, a house, a real job?”

“Maybe. I don’t even remember the last time I called her though.”

“Not since I’ve known you. I feel like you definitely would’ve mentioned it to me.”

That’s true. So it’s been at least two years, Angie guesses. Ugh, she really does not want to think about this right now. But Will’s kind of right about how much they still have to talk about. Eventually she has to stop putting off all of these big questions.

She doesn’t have a very interesting family backstory. Not the kind of backstory that’s tragic and yet fascinating, the sort of hardship that just makes you a better person. Nope, just the same old sob story from every sad movie she’s ever seen; guy meets girl, they get married way too young, have a baby, and then the guy disappears to another part of the country to focus less on his family and more on his drinking. Mom takes her abandonment issues out on her daughter. Daughter decides to rebel against the establishment, drop out of high school, and follow her boyfriend around the country while he tries to find fame with his hard metal screamo band.

Okay, the last part of her story gets a little more specific.

Her parents, Marco and Maria D’Amato, both hail from a lineage of proud Italian Catholics. This was been drilled into Angie incessantly as a child. The Italian part, she’s cool with, though the religious nonsense she tossed out the window long ago. Both of her parents are from huge families, though Angie probably couldn’t name more than ten of her relatives anymore.

Her mom has eight siblings, all of whom have their own tiny armies of children, and Angie’s certain her mother was planning to follow suit before her husband left. So instead of a dozen little well behaved Catholic children, Maria got Angie.

Well technically, Angela. Angie didn’t come up with her nickname until a few weeks after she’d dropped out of college to follow Derek on his tour. It seemed like a final way to shed her past. Dropping out was the last straw for Maria, who probably thought things couldn’t get any worse, until Angie showed up exactly one year later, pregnant. That didn’t exactly help things.

The thing is, Angie’s list of reasons not to tell her mom is a mile long: She and Will aren’t married, and he’s certainly not Christian enough or even slightly Italian, so even if Angie wanted her mother’s blessing, she knows she won’t get it. Graham hasn’t seen Maria since he was a toddler, and Angie would rather keep it that way, because she doesn’t feel like stressing her kid out by making him hang out with his uptight estranged grandmother. And she doesn’t see how telling her mom would be of any help right now. Maria lives on the other side of the country and clearly has no desire to be involved in Angie’s life. To add her mom into this situation, Angie thinks, would only complicate things further.

Angie realizes it’s been a long time since she said anything, so she attempts to organize her rambling thoughts into some sort of cohesive sentence.

“I don’t think, I owe it to her, to tell my mom,” she says. “And I don’t even know if I could track my dad down, I haven’t heard from him in over a decade. And I’m perfectly fine letting all other distant relatives find out through Instagram.”

The last part makes Will smile. Angie basically has an Instagram only so Will can tag her in stuff; his is immaculate and organized. She totally knows he’ll find an adorable way to share the baby news on social media when it’s time.

“Well, it’s up to you,” Will replies. He looks unsure of what to say, probably because he knows very little about Angie’s past. She just doesn’t like talking about it. “You could wait until closer to the due date, maybe. Or, like, send a letter or something, so that you don’t have to talk to her directly.”

“All good ideas. I don’t know. I definitely don’t want to say anything to her before we’ve told everyone here. Poppy’s closer to being my family than my mom is.”

Will’s smiling, being supportive, but Angie can tell he’s sad. This guy is the king of family clichés, and Angie knows how much he wishes she could have the normal family experience. But Angie knows that ship has long sailed. She just wants to do whatever will create the least drama in her life.

“You know, it’s really not a big deal,” Angie reassures him. “Graham and I have done just fine without having my parents or really any other family in the picture. And besides, Derek’s parents are pretty great, so at least Graham can get the whole grandparent experience.” She smiles, a little nervous, before adding, “Plus, this baby will have some pretty great grandparents on your side.”

And it’s true. By gaining Will and his parents into her life, Angie really has gained the best family she could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all comments and feedback. Some of the comments you guys left on previous chapters were really helpful for me while I was working on this one. I'm always open to new ideas :)
> 
> Question: Angie's due date is in September, so we've got the whole spring and summer to cover. Are there any events in particular that you want to make sure I include in the story? Holidays, milestones, birthdays? I need more excuses to get the whole gang together!


	5. Week 11: Strawberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Angie finally share their big news! Takes place 3/8-3/14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back :) Truth be told I've been working on this story continuously for the last couple months, but only in bits and pieces. It took me until now to finally end up with a full chapter. As a college student, I'm currently struggling through midterms, but my goal is to post one chapter every two weeks.

Week 10 comes and goes, and according to the app, their baby grows fingers and toes, and they manage to find a balance with this new routine. After almost three weeks living together, things are calm enough for the moment. Which kind of makes Angie anxious, because she knows this is the calm before the storm; nobody knows yet, and it’s just between her and Will. It’s all going great, and she’s not looking forward to all the logistics. Like yes, they’re living together, but at some point soon they’re going to have to pack up Angie’s house, find a realtor, and sell the place. Angie just wants to live in this perfect moment in time, when none of the responsibilities have caught up wit her yet, and everything feels simple. Or as simple as things _can_ feel while they’re sitting on this big secret.

Will on the other hand wants nothing more than to dive into the difficult stuff. Every night after the kids go to bed they look over his notepad and figure things out, and in some ways Angie finds it calming, that he has a defined list of everything that needs to get done. Though their evenings usually end with her falling asleep before they have time to make any real progress.

Yes, much to Will and Angie’s relief, Barfy Angie is gone, but she’s been replaced by Sleepy Angie, a grumpy monster who’s usually sprawled across the couch, waking only to raid the fridge. Will’s usual morning stops at the smoothie place have turned into random trips around town (usually fast food, even when he begs her to pick something healthier). Angie naps at her desk during lunch breaks and usually crashes right after dinner.

When the alarm goes off at seven on Monday morning, Will reaches over instinctively to turn it off before it wakes Angie up. But he remembers she has some big meeting at work today and is supposed to get to the office early. So he snoozes it, knowing he’ll probably have to come back here and drag her out of bed anyway. But first he needs to get the kids up.

While he’s in the kitchen toasting waffles and cutting fruit, Will takes out his phone to check the baby app. It always updates to a new week on Monday, and here they are, on the first day of week 11.

Baby Sprout is apparently the size of a strawberry. A _strawberry!_ The image of a tiny little strawberry sized baby with it’s tiny little baby toes crosses Will’s mind, and he’s suddenly not sure how he’s supposed to make it to the end of the week before telling the kids.

Sophie makes it to the table first, followed shortly by Graham, who’s still in his pajamas. They have a big history test at school today, and Will’s been quizzing them all week.

“What three Native American tribes lived in California in the 1700’s?” Will reads off of an index card.

“Ooh, that’s a tough one,” Graham says thoughtfully, as if he hasn’t been asked this question a dozen times this week. “The Mojave?”

“That’s one, what about the other two?”

Graham squints his eyes in thought for a moment.

“Uh, the Turok. The Oo…rok?” Will looks over to see Sophie mouthing the answer to Graham.

“Okay Soph, what’s the answer?”

“The Yurok and the Pomo!” she bursts out. Sophie knows this stuff backwards and forwards. She’s kept her review sheet tucked under her pillow for late night study sessions for the last week.

“Correct, ten points to both of you, and good team effort everyone!” Will says. No one’s keeping score, but studying is always more fun when he makes it into a game show. “Now who can tell me-” Will stops short as all three of them look over to see Angie coming around the corner. Her hair’s thrown up into what could be considered a messy bun, but is probably closer to a tangly knot. She looks like she’s pulled an all nighter, despite having just slept for the last ten hours. Will and the kids watch silently as Angie slouches over to the fridge, grabs the milk jug from the shelf on the door and downs almost a quarter of the gallon without stopping.

“Uh, Mom?” Graham asks. “Are you okay?”

“You haven’t stopped to breathe,” Sophie adds. Will catches the kids giving each other an amused look; like they’re sharing an inside joke. He’s simultaneously giddy that the kids are so close, and also terrified that they may be putting the clues together.

Angie lowers the milk and yawns dramatically.

“What can I say, not being able to drink alcohol has reawakened my love for chugging dairy beverages.”

And that’s precisely when Will learns something new about this new, sleepy-all-the-time version of Angie: She’s terrible at keeping secrets. He sees Sophie’s mouth open with a question before he has time to interrupt.

“Why can’t you drink alcohol?”

“Because.. we ran out,” Will says lamely.

Angie pauses for a moment, dumfounded, before nodding slowly. Will meets her eyes and there’s a pause before she says, “I decided to stop, because… drinking is bad for you.”

This would be believable if it wasn’t contradictory to Angie’s entire life philosophy.

Will is eager for Friday to get here already. That’s the day they picked to tell the kids. End of Week 11, end of the first trimester. Will’s never kept secrets from Sophie (at least, not important things like this), and the last thing he wants is for the kids to find out by accident. In his mind he pictures all the videos he’s seen on Youtube (and teared up watching) over the years; parents planning dramatic reveals and excited kids jumping up and down and cheering. He wants it to be perfect. He doesn’t want the news to come out randomly over breakfast.

Angie drives the kids to school since she has to be at work early anyway, and Will enjoys the morning home by himself, cleaning the kitchen, his favorite de-stressing activity. What he keeps coming back to is _strawberry._ Sprout is growing, and apparently has a love for dairy products. Will just can’t wrap his head around it.

The week drags by until Friday, and Will’s a nervous wreck the whole day. He’s spent the entire week pestering Angie with questions about how they should tell the kids. Both Will and Angie are nervous about Sophie and Graham will take the news, so they decide to keep it casual.

Will leaves a little early from work, swinging by Miggy’s house to pick up the kids on his way. They stop and get takeout from the kids’ favorite pizza place, because Will just wants Graham and Sophie to be in the best mood possible this evening. They’re pulling into the driveway at the same time as Angie.

Will’s wishes he could fast forward through this evening.

He’s always thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would get remarried and have more kids. And he’s always figured that Sophie would be cool with that. And anyway, both Sophie and Graham have adjusted well to Will and Angie dating. In fact they both seem to think it’s a good thing. So really, Will has no reason to expect that they won’t take the news well. But still, it’s a little scary.

Dinner is a little terse, because Will and Angie are both on edge. The kids both excitedly show Angie their graded history tests (an A+ for Sophie and a B- for Graham, a high achievement for both), and she barely seems to hear them. Angie barely eats half a slice of pizza, and Will makes a mental note to make sure she eats something later. Chapter two of the book _Your Guide to a Healthy Pregnancy_ , which arrived from Amazon three days ago (and Will confirmed on three other websites), has told him that small, infrequent meals are the best anyway.

“Today at Miggy’s house, we were teaching Jack how to do a somersault,” Sophie says excitedly.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t very good at it,” Graham adds. “Babies aren’t good at much stuff.”

“He’s not really a baby anymore,” Will says. “He’s starting preschool this fall.”

“Yeah, I kind of miss when he was little and we could carry him around,” Sophie says.

Graham giggles.

“Remember that time we dressed him up for our Thanksgiving play and drew a mustache on him?” He and Sophie grin, but Will and Angie roll their eyes. This mustache was drawn with _Sharpie_ , and while Angie was watching all the kids. Safe to say Miggy wasn’t very happy about it.

Nevertheless, Will takes this subject of conversation as a good omen. They won’t object to having a new little baby in their lives.

“Hey, go get your PJ’s on for movie night,” Will tells them.

Sophie grins and pushes her chair back from the table.

“Yay! And just so you and Angie know, Graham and I already picked a movie.”

“Oh no,” Angie moans. “Just tell me it isn’t a Disney movie we’ve already seen a hundred times?”

“Oh you bet it is!” Graham calls as he disappears around the corner to his room. And just like that, Will and Angie are left alone at the table. They sit in silence for a moment before Will says, “I bet it’s gonna be _Moana_.”

“My money’s on _Tarzan_ ,” Angie says. “Maybe _Inside Out_.” They’ve watched all three of these movies in the past month.

“Assuming they still want to watch a movie,” Will says, and he can hear his nerves in his voice.

He’s still a little terrified that the kids will be upset.

The two of them end up perched awkwardly on the couch in the living room, waiting for the kids. For a few moments it’s silent. Will’s heart is pounding, and his leg bounces up and down from the nervous energy. Angie may be past her morning sickness, but now Will’s the one who feels like he might vomit. Angie shakes him from his impending panic when she reaches out to grab his hand.

“It’s going to be okay, Will. They’re going to be excited.”

“What if they’re not?”

“They will be. I just know it.”

Will’s spent so much of the last five weeks promising Angie that everything’s going to be okay; that living together, and having a baby, and suffering through morning sickness would all be okay. But now for once he’s the one who needs some reassurance.

Suddenly there’s commotion from the kitchen, where the kids are trying to make microwave popcorn.

“You have to take it out or it’ll get burnt!” Sophie yells.

“If we take it out too early, then there won’t be any popcorn, just kernels!” Graham yells back. “Is that what you want Sophie? Crunchy pieces of corn?”

Will and Angie grin at each other. There’s something undeniably charming about hearing their kids bicker like siblings.

“Guys, just make two bags of popcorn,” Will calls towards the kitchen. “One Sophie’s way and one Graham’s way. But hurry up, we’re getting hungry over here!”

There’s grumbling from the kitchen, but the two eventually appear, each holding their own bag of popcorn.

“You two will have to taste test both kinds and declare the winner,” Sophie says.

“Yeah, and not to be dramatic, but I _will_ take offense if I lose,” Graham adds.

Will decides not to let this sidetrack him from the plan. He gestures for the kids to come sit on the couch, and he moves to sit opposite of them, perched on the coffee table. Angie stands next to Will, her hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, so before we watch the movie, and Angie and I need to talk with you guys for a minute,” Will says.

“Yes, let’s chat while enjoying the delicious popcorn that I made,” Graham replies, holding his bowl out to Will. “C’mon Big Dubs, I know you’ll be on my side here.”

“Graham, just put the popcorn down for a minute okay,” Angie says gently. “This is actually kind of a big deal.”

“Okay, what’s up?” Sophie asks.

“So, we wanted to talk to you, because there’s been a lot of changes going on recently,” Will says. “Like, us all living together and everything.”

“Yeah, that’s cool with us,” Sophie replies.

“Yeah, it makes copying-- er, _working_ on homework with Sophie much easier,” Graham adds.

“Okay, well we have some more news for you guys. There’s another big change happening soon.”

“Are we going to move in here for real?” Graham asks, suddenly interested.

“I—well, yes that’s part of it, but there’s something else we have to tell you.”

Sophie’s eyes widen.

“Are you getting _married!?_ Graham, I _knew it!_ I _told you_ it would happen before summer!”

Will doesn’t have to turn around to sense Angie’s smirk. Every time they try to share this news with someone, it becomes glaringly obvious that they’re doing this out of order. Will’s not sure exactly what to say next. All the parenting books, apps, and articles he’s consulted have said to prepare for any reaction your kids might have, but if Sophie isn’t excited he thinks he might cry. Will wants to pass the ball to Angie, but when she looks over at her she widens her eyes in terror and shakes her head almost imperceptibly.

So he’s on his own.

“Okay, well, I’ll just say it then,” Will starts, his breath shaky. “We’re having a baby. Angie and I are having a baby.”

“ _WHAT?!”_

The response comes from Sophie and Graham in unison. Popcorn literally goes flying as Graham tosses his bowl to the side in surprise. Sophie freezes in place. They both look to Angie, as if Will might have gone crazy and made this story up.

“Yep,” Angie says, and she still looks petrified, but she’s smiling a little.

“You’re having a _baby?”_ Sophie repeats.

“Yes.”

“A _real_ baby?” Graham asks.

“Yes, a real baby.”

Later, Will will look back on this moment and realize how sweet it was that in this moment, Sophie and Graham looked to each other before reacting further. The way they’re already so close, and so in tune with each other, that they just automatically check in to see how the other is feeling. They’re quiet for a moment, in silent conversation.

Sophie’s the first one to jump up from her seat.

“You’re having a BABY!” She screams, leaping up onto the couch. Graham’s right there with her, the two of them jumping around in excitement.

Will feels all of the stress melt out of his body, and he looks over to Angie, who’s grinning. He reaches out for her hand and pulls her closer.

Sophie jumps down from the couch, breathless and grinning ear to ear.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” Angie says.

“When is it coming?”

“End of September,” Will responds.

“ _This September?”_ Graham shrieks. That makes Will laugh.

“Yes, Graham. This September.”

“But that’s so far away!” Sophie cries.

“Wait, are you sure?” Graham asks. “Mom doesn’t look like she’s having a baby.”

All eyes turn to Angie’s stomach, but she’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, so there’s no way to tell if she’s really showing yet. Will sometimes thinks he can see the tiniest little bump, but he knows he’s probably just imagining it.

“Yeah, we’re very sure,” Will says. “We went to the doctor and everything. Little Sprout is doing fine.”

“Sprout? Is that the baby’s name?” Graham asks.

“That’s just it’s nickname for now, since we don’t have a name for it yet,” Angie says.

“Wow, okay my brain is processing a lot right now,” Sophie says dramatically, holding her hands to her forehead. “I can’t believe it!”

“This isn’t an April Fool’s prank, is it?” Graham asks.

“No buddy, it’s March,” Angie cuts in.

Sophie grins and launches herself forward into Will’s arms. Will squeezes his eyes shut, just basking in the moment. Imagining what it will be like to hug his future child someday soon.

He peeks over Sophie’s shoulder to see that Graham has Angie wrapped in a tight hug, the two of them perched on the edge of the couch. Arms still wrapped around Sophie, he manages to scoot over to Angie and Graham, wrapping all four of them into one big hug.

And just like he’s been finding himself doing a lot recently, he manages to slide a hand down to rest on Angie’s stomach. Little Sprout in their first family group hug. The first of many. September really does feel impossibly far away.

Having told the kids, Will and Angie know they need to get the news out to everyone else before their kids spill the secret for them. The next day is Saturday, and Angie heads over to the Winebrary around 11, right when it opens.

Angie thinks to herself (as she’s thought several other times in the last month) that she’s never been more terrified in her life. The thought occurs to her that Poppy won’t believe her. Angie barely believes it. Maybe she should’ve brought the pregnancy test along or something.

When Poppy sees Angie come in, she politely excuses herself from the small group of customers she’s chatting with and goes to the bar, pouring Angie a glass of red wine before Angie can say anything.

“Hey girl! I didn’t know you were stopping by! I just got this new wine shipment in today. It has _no goats_ in it, I promise.”

Angie’s concerned that there were _ever_ goats in _any_ wine, but she glosses over that for the moment.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t text you or anything,” she says, trying to sound totally natural. “I just, uh, wanted to come by.”

She climbs up on a stool at the bar, taking the glass of wine from Poppy. She knows it’s a ticking time bomb now, because Poppy’s going to notice if she doesn’t take a single sip.

“It’s all good.” Poppy busies herself wiping down the bar with a rag. She’s always busy when she’s working. “I’m just glad to see you. The last few weeks I feel like you’ve been totally MIA.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“What, do you need me to watch Sophie and Graham again? Because I get it, you and Will are in love, blah blah blah. But man, I feel like I get a call from Will like every single day asking me to watch your kids! Something must be up that’s causing you to need so much alone time…”

Poppy’s smiling, and it’s clear she’s just joking around, but it’s uncanny how quickly Angie’s best friend is able to pick up on things like this. Angie wants to just play along, but she knows that the longer she drags this out, the harder it will be.

“Hey, Poppy? I actually wanted to talk to you about something important. Do you have a second to sit?”

Poppy drops the rag onto the bar, all other tasks immediately forgotten. Angie sees her brain whir into motion as she runs through every possibility.

“Oh no, Ange, is everything okay with you and Will?” She lowers her voice into an urgent whisper as she comes to the other side of the bar. “Have I been watching the kids so you can have the _break up_ talk?”

“ _No._ No, everything is good with me and Will. Actually, it’s-”

“Then what is it, work? Did you get fired again?”

“No, I-”

“What?!” Poppy yells. A nearby customer looks over at her, confused, and Poppy inhales a long, calming breath, before whisper yelling again “What is it?!”

Angie’s heart is pounding so hard she thinks it’s gonna punch a hole through her chest.

“You promise to be cool and not freak out?”

Poppy grabs Angie’s hand.

“Girl, I’m gonna try, but I have no idea what you’re about to say.”

Angie inhales a nervous breath, and forces the words out before she can stop herself.

“I’m pregnant.”

There’s a beat of silence as the words hit Poppy. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, and she starts to say something, but then cuts herself off, open and closing her lips like a terrified fish. Her hand flies to her face.

“Okay,” Angie says, her voice sounding shaky. “Ask me any and all questions that you have.”

“Oh my God! Oh my God you’re _pregnant?_ ”

“Yup.”

“Is this an April Fool’s prank?”

“Well it’s March, first of all. But no, it’s not a prank..”

“Okay, wow, I was not expecting this,” Poppy says, and the questions spill out of her mouth faster than Angie can answer them. “How far along are you? Do the kids know? How long have you known? Did you _plan_ this?”

Angie opens her mouth to respond before Poppy cuts her off with another question.

“Wait, it’s Will’s _right?_ ”

“Of course it’s Will’s!” Angie exclaims, prompting another look from a nearby patron. She wonders if coming here instead of waiting to meet Poppy at home was a good idea. She continues, trying to get all of her answers straight.

“It’s the end of the first trimester.”

Poppy’s hand flies to her mouth in shock. Angie’s shocked she managed to hide this from Poppy too.

“Yeah, nobody really knows yet. And, uh… no it, it wasn’t exactly planned.”

“Angie, you’ve told Will, _right?_ ”

“Oh, he told me actually, kind of a long story. But we went to the doctor’s and got it confirmed and everything. And we told his parents. And the kids. But I wanted you to be the first one outside of family to know.”

“Wow, I’m impressed! Angie from a couple years ago would’ve definitely freaked out, hidden this from Will, and like skipped town or something. I mean, when you were pregnant with Graham you _literally_ ran away to Vegas!”

Poppy’s clearly joking, but there’s some truth to the statement. Angie’s usual strategy is usually to run away from any and all pressing problems.

“So, how do you feel about it?” Poppy asks.

“Well the kids took it well. Actually really well. And so did Will’s parents, obviously. And it there’s a lot of stuff to work out, like moving in together and everything, and I’m literally exhausted all the time so that’s not helping things-”

“Ange.” Poppy’s excitement has been reigned in, and she’s now clearly in advice giving mode. “How do you _feel_? Like, emotionally? This is a huge surprise, six months into your relationship? How are you processing everything?”

Angie sighs. This is why she was afraid to tell Poppy; Poppy always makes her talk about “feelings” like a “real adult,” and she doesn’t even know how she feels yet. She’s mostly been shoving the feelings part of her brain to the side to focus on just getting through the days. She almost doesn’t believe this is all happening; she can’t process it enough to have feelings about it. Yes, she’s known for over a month, but she hasn’t really taken the time to think about her emotions. She and Will have just been focusing on getting through all the physical symptoms.

“I feel… Well, at first it was terrifying. I totally freaked out. But we’ve known for like a month now, and…” Angie feels a tiny smile creep up on her, and the feeling in her stomach isn’t fear, it’s butterflies; nervous, but excited. Saying it out loud to Poppy, seeing how excited Poppy is, makes everything seem very real. But in a good way.

“I guess I feel pretty good about it now. But it’s been stressful hiding it. Will’s trying to do everything for me, and I know it’s stressing him out. I mean, just managing Sophie’s takes up every free second of his life, but now he’s constantly worried about me.”

“Angie.” Poppy pauses for a moment to make sure she has Angie’s attention. “Don’t feel guilty that Will’s busy taking care of you. He loves you, and that’s his job. And anyway now that the rest of us know we can help out.”

“Yeah, I just want to make sure the kids are okay. They seemed pretty excited last night, but this is a lot for them.”

“Well, you know I’m here for you and Will no matter what,” Poppy affirms, grabbing Angie’s hand. “Man, I just can’t believe this! Never in a million years would I have guessed.”

“Me neither, Pop,” Angie replies. “Me neither.”

Douglas, Miggy, and the rest of the kids are over at Will’s place for the day. Will has decided that this year he’s _finally_ going to start a garden, and he wants all the kids to help. Rory is working on a blueprint, carefully decided where each of the baby seedlings Will has purchased should go. The twins are laying out a stone border for the flower bed, and Graham’s helping Jack learn how to use his little shovel. Douglas and Miggy are seated on the back porch, discussing something about dermatology, when Will comes outside with a platter of lemonade for everyone.

“No, Miggy, dermatology is about _skin_ , I’m a _skin doctor_!” Douglas says. “It’s got nothing to do with doors.”

“Wow, cool!” Miggy replies. “Wait, but like the outside of your skin or the inside? Have you ever considered that human beings are just water balloons made out of skin, and all our guts and stuff are just floating around inside?”

“Oh look, it’s Will!” Douglas says. “What a welcome interruption from this conversation.”

“Lemonade?” Will offers. “I made you a special sugar free batch, Douglas!”

Douglas grumbles but takes the drink. Lately he’s been sticking to Poppy’s healthy eating plan pretty well. Miggy takes a glass but sets it aside to play with the little paper umbrella Will used to decorate.

“So, I, uh, kind of have something to tell you guys,” Will says, taking a seat opposite of Miggy and Douglas. “About me and Angie.”

“Are you two getting married?” Miggy asks. “That’s dope. I always knew you two kids would end up together.”

“No, well, actually it’s not that.”

Will’s surprised by a voice behind him.

“You broke up?”

He turns around to see Emma, holding a gardening spade in one hand and a flower pot in the other.

“No, Angie and I didn’t break up,” Will jumps in quickly.

“Then what’s the news?” Amy says, appearing beside Emma. _Man_ the two of them have a knack for sniffing out gossip.

By now, Will has the attention of everyone in the yard. Rory sets down his blueprints, and Jack toddles over behind Sophie and Graham, who are wearing enormous grins.

“Okay, well I wasn’t really expecting to announce this to everyone all at once, but I guess this is easier,” Will says.

“My money’s on a breakup,” Emma whispers to Amy with a shrug.

“Okay, I already told you it’s not that, so be quiet,” Will retorts. Sophie giggles.

“Okay, the news is-”

“Wait, holdup, can this news wait like two minutes,” Miggy interrupts. “Jack’s on this whole potty training schedule and-”

“No it cannot!” Will takes a deep breath, and for just a moment, he locks eyes with Sophie. The excitement and joy in her expression gives him the confidence he needs to just come out and say it.

“Angie and I are having a baby.”

“A _baby?!_ ” The twins scream. Rory, dramatic as ever, puts his hand to his head like he might faint. Sophie and Graham look beyond proud. Will knows they’ve been struggling to keep this secret all day.

“Bro, are you serious?” Miggy asks, his worries about Jack pushed aside for the moment.

“Yep, totally serious. Baby’s due in September.”

“Wow, congratulations,” Douglas says, taking a sip of his lemonade. “Does Poppy know? She’s gonna flip out.”

“Angie’s at the Winebrary with her right now.”

“A baby?” Jack asks. He’s smiling along with everyone else but clearly doesn’t understand the source of all the excitement.

“Yeah Jack-Jack, you won’t be the littlest kid in the group anymore!” Sophie kneels down to tell him.

“Don’t expect any free babysitting from me,” Douglas warns. “I’ve sworn to never change a diaper in my life again.”

“Well now we’re going to have to start our garden design over again,” Emma comments. “We might as well make it baby proof.”

As long as it doesn’t interrupt my artistic vision,” Rory replies.

The kids chatter excitedly for a few more minutes, asking the usual questions about whether it’s a boy or girl, and when the baby’s due. Sophie and Graham are enthusiastically answering questions, excited to be the center of attention. At some point, the kids drift back over to the garden to finish planting the last of the seedlings. Miggy takes Jack inside to use the bathroom, and Will starts gathering up everyone’s empty lemonade cups.

Douglas, who’s been rather quiet for the last few minutes, breaks the silence by asking, “So was this a surprise then?”

Will nods sheepishly before he even stops to think if he should’ve answered honestly.

“Wow. Because I know Angie, and she’s not the kind of person who would choose a commitment like this six months into a relationship.”

And it’s not the first time Will has had a thought like this, but it’s the first time he’s heard it vocalized. Yes, Angie seems happy right now (or at least, happy when she’s not experiencing one of the many frustrating symptoms of early pregnancy), but this is definitely not what she would’ve chosen two months ago. Douglas must notice the look on Will’s face, because he continues:

“I mean, if there’s anyone she would want that commitment with though, it would be you. When Charlotte got pregnant with the twins I was so upset. There literally couldn’t have been a worse time for it to happen. But now I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Douglas doesn’t normally share anything about his past, or anything involving emotion at all for that matter. So the value of this comment is not lost on Will.

“I know. I mean, sometimes I worry if Angie’s really feeling okay, but I’m just excited. I don’t care what the circumstances are; being a dad is my whole life.”

“I know it is,” Douglas says with a chuckle. Just then Jack comes toddling back out onto the porch, followed by Miggy.

“Guess who just went to the potty like a big boy!” Miggy announces.

“Me!” Jack squeals, and goes running off to join the kids in the garden. Sophie kneels down to give him a hug, and then Emma and Amy escort him over to test some sort of makeshift baby gate they’re already throwing together.

And Will thinks to himself that this baby, really, couldn’t be coming at a better time. Because this kid’s going to grow up in this little family, and Will really wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I have endless ideas for this story, but always love comments and suggestions if you feel so inspired ;)


	6. Week 14: Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angie is confronted with her insecurities about her merits as a mother. Takes place 3/28.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much to those who left kudos and comments on my last chapter. I genuinely thought I might be the last person left who was still watching Single Parents lol. Knowing that other people are still following and enjoying the story really motivated me to write this chapter. As usual, I had a lot of ideas to fit into one chapter, so I hope it all fits together well. Enjoy!

Angie wakes up on Sunday morning to an empty house. Well, technically it’s not even morning when she gets up, it’s 12:15. And the last thing she remembers is lying in bed, scrolling through Twitter at like 8 last night. So there’s a good chance she’s been out for more than 12 hours.

She’s grateful though. Recently, Angie has felt like an exhausted zombie for most of the day. Sleepy Angie, while preferable to Barfy Angie, still isn’t very much fun.

Angie lays around in bed for a while on her phone before finally climbing out of bed. She doesn’t bother getting dressed. For one thing she has no plans to leave the house anytime soon, and for another, it’s getting a little harder for her to squeeze into her regular clothes lately. Every time she grabs her favorite pair of jeans or t-shirts, they fit a little bit tighter. And now there’s definitely a bump, a noticeable curve of her stomach, where Sprout is growing.

Angie stands in the bathroom for a few minutes, just staring at her stomach in the mirror, mostly hidden under the old ACDC pajama shirt she always wears. Angie, queen of denial, would like to go on squeezing into her old clothes as long as she can, but she doesn’t want to squish Sprout, and she knows she can’t put it off forever. Poppy’s going to take her out shopping later this afternoon for some maternity clothes. Angie makes a mental note to add “search closet for clothes” to her to-do list, wondering if some of her old stuff from when she had Graham might be stuffed in the back of her closet at home. Or, the house where she and Graham used to live, that isn’t home anymore.

And yeah, because she keeps a pregnancy to-do list just like Will’s now. He’s totally brainwashed her. But something about the last couple weeks, finally being able to see the tiny bump that is Sprout, has made Angie feel a lot more motivated to get stuff done. In the past two weeks, she and Will have met with a realtor about selling her house and started moving all the bedrooms around at Will’s place. Sophie’s room is now shared between the two kids, the old guest room cleaned out to be a nursery. The kids, as they have been with everything so far, were on board with this idea. They love their new bunk beds, and Graham does not seem at all phased by the pink walls decorated with butterflies. As soon as his Lego sets and drum kit were set up, he announced, “It’s just like home!”

Angie wanders out to the kitchen. The big chalkboard wall by the dining table, which for the last week has read “Sprout is the size of a lemon!” has been updated to read “Sprout’s the size of an orange!”

There’s a plate of pancakes on the table and a glass of orange juice. A quickly scrawled note on the table reads, _We made orange juice since that’s how big Sprout is now! It’s really good. Have a good day! Love, Graham._

Graham’s off with Derek for the day. Angie’s not sure exactly what their plans are; at this point she trusts Derek enough to take care of their kid. Sometimes they go work a shift at Ratso’s, or they go the beach or museum. Or they’ll end up doing something completely random that only Graham and Derek would think of, like the time they bought one of every type of cake mix from the grocery store and then spent the afternoon in the kitchen, mixing it all together into one giant “Super Cake.”

Angie’s glad that Graham has such a good relationship with Derek. Even if she knows it secretly drives Will crazy. And it’s clear that Graham got a lot of his quirky personality from his father, but Angie really hopes he’ll take after Will.

Will and Sophie are at soccer tryouts. The soccer season starts next week, and Will has high hopes for The Gators this year. Sophie doesn’t necessarily seem to reflect that confidence, but she’s quite good at tolerating her father’s excessive enthusiasm for the team.

Angie sits down on the couch in the living room with her food. There’s a pile of signed parent permission forms for the soccer team scattered across the coffee table, and lined up along the wall are around three dozen colorful plastic eggs, because even though Easter is still a week away, Will is already preparing an egg hunt for the kids. Angie knew this before she lived with Will, before she even started dating him, but these last few weeks have really shown her how he dedicates his life to his role as a father. Not a day goes by when there isn’t some new school project, art project, or activity being set up in his house.

Angie spends the morning (well, really the early afternoon) watching TV and enjoying her alone time. She has no idea when exactly she fell asleep, but she’s suddenly awoken by knocking on the front door.

“Coming!” she calls, and heads to the door, her fuzzy blanket still wrapped around her.

Graham and Derek are on the porch. Graham’s carrying an enormous stick of cotton candy in one hand and a big stuffed elephant in the other. He and Derek have matching pirates painted on their faces.

“We went to the carnival Mom!” Graham squeals. “It was _so_ fun, and I won the ring toss and got a prize! I also chugged an entire bottle of lemonade in the car on the way here so I have about ten seconds to make it to the bathroom.”

He pushes the cotton candy and elephant into Angie’s arms and disappears into the house.

“The carnival,” Angie says with a smile. “Very creative idea.”

“Yeah, well Graham and I have resolved to visit every single attraction in LA together,” Derek replies.

“Thanks for taking him out. I really needed some alone time and he’s been looking forward to seeing you all week.”

“Angie, please don’t thank me. He’s my kid. I’m just trying to do what I can to make up for all the years I missed.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, and they’re usually good at making small talk, but ever since Angie and Graham moved in here, and now with the news about the baby, she feels weirder talking to Derek.

“So, how are you feeling?” Derek asks.

“Oh, you know, tired as always,” Angie replies. “I was literally just sleeping all morning.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? I could watch Graham for the afternoon if you need?”

“No, you have a long drive back to Barstow, don’t worry about it. Will and Sophie will be home soon.”

“Okay. Well, still let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you Wednesday then?”

“Yeah, remember Graham has Lego club after school so you can’t pick him up until four.”

“Yep! I’ve got it all on my calendar,” Derek says with a grin. He’s made a lot of progress recently getting his life together; he has an actual apartment now, not just a van. He has a calendar, he’s more organized, and he’s just generally putting in the effort to be a stable figure in Graham’s life.

“What LA attraction are you guys hitting up next week?”

“I don’t know, it’s a tie between the science museum and the beach. Whatever Graham wants.”

Just then, Derek and Angie turn to see Will and Sophie pulling into the driveway, and Derek’s smile turns sheepish. He and Will don’t exactly get along very well.

“Well, I’ll go now,” Derek says. He leans toward the door and calls inside the house, “Bye Little G! I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

Will is riding high off of the exhilaration of youth sports, chattering excitedly to Angie and Graham as he and Sophie haul their soccer equipment inside.

“Lot’s of great talent this year!” Will says. “Tryouts were competitive, but I think it’s for the best. We’re going to have only the best players on the Gators this year!”

“Don’t you have to give a spot to anyone who tries out?” Graham asks, appearing in the living room drinking the last of Angie’s orange juice that she left on the table.

“And didn’t you guys win zero games last year?” Angie adds.

“Technically we did win a couple games there when we had Rory on our team,” Sophie replies. “Though that turned out to be illegal.”

“Well that’s all behind us,” Will declares, probably a little too excited given the circumstances. “We’re gonna win this year! Good vibes! Woohoo!”

Will dances down the hall to go change out of his soccer jersey, and Sophie and Graham immediately break into giggles.

“Has he been like this all morning?” Angie asks. Sophie sighs dramatically, but she’s smiling.

“He’s always so excited every year. Whatever, he’s having fun, and that’s all that matters,” Sophie says. Angie chuckles and goes back to sit on the couch.

“How’s sprout?” Graham asks, climbing up next to his mother.

“Apparently growing a lot,” Angie replies. “Thanks for the orange juice by the way.”

“You know, you were snoring so loudly this morning that we could hear you in the kitchen,” Sophie informs her.

“Hey, growing a baby is hard work, what can I say?”

Later in the afternoon, Poppy comes by to drop off Rory and pick up Angie.

Rory is indignant that he’s not being brought along on the shopping trip.

“Why are you leaving me with Will? I’ve got the best fashion sense out of anyone here!”

“Rory, this is a girls day for me and Angie,” Poppy repeats for the fifth time.

“Besides bud, we need your help here!” Will says. “We’re doing spring cleaning today!”

Rory gives Will a dramatic look of disgust. Even Sophie and Graham, who are usually good sports about this kind of thing, roll their eyes.

For the entire drive to Target, Poppy questions Angie about how things are going with the baby, with Will, and with all of them living together. In the past, she and Angie found time to catch up all the time, but recently it’s been busy, so Angie hasn’t gotten to talk much with her best friend.

“I mean, I _feel_ fine,” Angie tells her. “I’m just so tired all the time. But at least I can eat without barfing now, that’s a big improvement.”

“And the kids? How are they handling it all?”

“Honestly there’s been no problems. They’re always asking how the baby’s doing. Plus Will’s really good at keeping them involved.”

“And Will? He hasn’t combusted yet from running around constantly every day?”

“Dude, he’s like superman, always getting everything done. It’s crazy. He’s, like, _too_ perfect at this.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Poppy replies. “You’re doing just as much work as he is. And besides, you’re the one doing the most important job.”

The maternity section at Target is exactly as terrible as Angie thought it would be; everything is floral, or a dress, or has something cheesy written on it. It makes Angie want to barf. She wanders the aisles for a few minutes before plopping herself down on the bench by the changing rooms and letting Poppy pick stuff out for her.

Angie and Poppy have a long history of Target trips together. When they first met, Rory and Graham weren’t even two yet, and neither mother was in the position to pay for expensive babysitting. So they would find ways to hang out together with their kids; going to Target to buy diapers and baby clothes and then wandering aimlessly through the home goods section became a regular tradition with them.

Lots of things have changed in their friend group over the years, but Angie and Poppy have not. And Angie feels pretty grateful for that.

Angie’s pulled from her thoughts as she hears someone speaking.

“Wow, I have a lot to try on!” a high pitched voice says.

“Ooh, start with the pink blouse, I can just tell it’s going to be gorgeous on you!” another voice replies.

Two women come around the corner to the changing rooms, carrying several hangers draped with colorful clothing. The taller of the two women has long, blonde hair and the kind of blue eyes that Angie usually assumes only supermodels have. She looks probably six months pregnant (not that Angie’s a very good judge of that kind of thing), but she also looks like she could walk right onto a runway.

“Okay, I’ll try on the pink one first,” the impossibly beautiful woman says to her friend, who is carrying most of the clothes. “I need to walk out of here with like a thousand cute dresses, what with Easter coming up, and our maternity shoot. We’ve hired a photographer for sunset pics on the beach.”

“Totally adorable!” Beautiful Lady’s friend gushes. She comes over and plops herself on a seat near Angie’s in the little waiting area, as the pregnant goddess glides off to a dressing room. She looks like one of the women happily dancing in a field somewhere that grace the covers of the pregnancy books stacks on Will’s nightstand.

Angie thinks to herself that every single floral shirt in the entire maternity section was made for this woman. She wishes Poppy would come back and save her from this scene.

After a minute, Gorgeous Pregnant Lady reappears, draped in the rosy pink shirt. Her friend jumps up and squeals.

“Jessica, oh my _God_ , you are glowing!”

“You think so?” Jessica says with a blush of feigned modesty. Angie consciously prevents her mouth from falling open. She’s always assumed that pregnancy is just a slow, ninth month journey toward becoming a bloated beach ball of a human being, but this woman looks perfect. She looks like pregnancy _suits_ her. Angie looks down at her too tight jeans and favorite white and black striped sweater. She’s had this shirt for a long time, actually. She remembers Graham spitting up on it when he was just a few days old, and how she had to scrub the thing for almost an hour to get the stain out, since they didn’t have a washing machine.

“By the way,” Jessica the beautiful sun goddess continues, “Let’s run by the baby aisle before we checkout, I want to check and see if they have those breastfeeding pillows I was telling you about. The kind with the extra arm support.”

Jessica’s friend nods enthusiastically, as if breast feeding pillows are the most exciting subject of conversation to ever have existed.

“I’m just really set on doing only breastfeeding this time,” Jessica continues. She comes back over to her friend to grab more clothes to try on. “I just think it’s better for the baby, you know? More natural, and besides it’s the only way to make sure you bond with them enough?”

Despite herself, Angie is flooded with memories of Graham as a baby. Late nights rocking him in her arms as she fed him; she tried breastfeeding, but probably because she was stressed and barely had money to feed herself for the first couple years of his life, she found her supply went dry quickly. She bought formula (and a couple of times, pilfered it), and that managed to get them both through until Graham was old enough to eat solid foods.

And Angie knows, she _knows,_ that it’s silly to sit here and compare herself to the magical ethereal being that is Jessica, who’s now modeling another tacky looking maternity dress that she somehow makes stunning. It’s like pregnancy is some sort of metamorphosis, and Jessica has turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly like she’s supposed to. Angie feels like she’s just transforming from a caterpillar into a much fatter caterpillar that doesn’t fit into any of its old clothes.

This is silly, she tells herself. This is just unnecessary anxiety, and she needs to quit making comparisons between herself and this total stranger. Anyway, she’s always had a sense of style in her clothing that she likes, so why would it matter?

But she can’t help it.

There’s no getting around it, Angie thinks to herself; she’s a bad mom. She had no idea what she was doing the last time she had a baby, and she knows nothing more now. She’s going to mess it up just like she did last time.

She thinks of Will, with his perfect family traditions and image. He’s the exact kind of person who would want to go do a maternity photoshoot on the beach at sunset. Who deserves someone who’s glowing, and an expert mom. He deserves someone who’s better at this than Angie.

Angie’s saved from her own thoughts by Poppy returning.

Man, it’s like this entire section was designed to be the opposite of Angie D’Amato style,” she says. “But don’t worry, I found some cute stuff.”

Somehow, that doesn’t make Angie feel much better.

Will and the kids clean the house and get all the Easter decorations put up before Poppy and Angie get back. Rory get excited about helping place all the decorations, and Sophie and Graham are more than happy to help clean up the guest room to be a nursery. Will’s just popping a chicken in the oven for dinner when he hears the front door open.

“We’re back!” Poppy announces. The kids, who are in the kitchen painting ceramic eggs, drop their brushes and run to the front door.

“Mom!” Will hears Rory say. “I think I have a future as an interior designer! Will let me put up all the decorations. I went for a pastel chique kind of vibe. Each room has its own color theme!”

“Very nice Rory,” Poppy says. A few moments later everyone comes around the corner into the kitchen. The kids excitedly return to their painting at the table. Poppy, who’s carrying two large shopping bags, deposits them on the floor and follows behind them, leaving Will and Angie alone for a moment.

Angie looks exhausted, and instinctually Will steps forward to wrap her in his arms.

“How was shopping?” He murmurs into her hair.

“Fine,” she replies. But her voice doesn’t really sound like it was fine.

They stand there for a moment, and Will tries very hard to restrain himself from peppering Angie with more questions. When something’s wrong, he likes to solve it; he likes to ask a thousand questions until he can find a problem and solve it. But that’s not Angie’s deal. He decides to wait until later before figuring out what’s bothering her.

After a moment, Angie pulls away and assures Will, “Dude, I’m fine, I promise,” with a small smile. “I’ll be right back.” As she turns to leave, Poppy comes back in, seating herself on one of the bar stools lined up along Will’s counter.

“Angie, go put on one of your new outfits!” Poppy says. “Do a fashion show for us!”

“Dude, if you think I’m putting on anything besides pajamas right now, you’re crazy,” Angie replies, and disappears into the bedroom.

“How did shopping go?” Will asks Poppy, busying himself chopping vegetables.

“Pretty well. Once we sifted through all the ugly ass grandma looking florals, we ended up finding some good stuff. How were the kids?”

“Great! We got the whole house cleaned, and obviously you can see Rory worked his magic with the decorations.”

The kitchen is now strung with pink and yellow streamers, and decorative sparkly eggs have been placed around the room.

“Next weekend I’ll have to borrow your kids to help clean out my garage,” Poppy says. “Why should you be the only one to make use of free child labor?”

And something about that sentence just freezes Will’s brain for a moment.

_I’ll have to borrow your_ _kids._

She means Sophie and Graham. And she called them _his_ kids. Both of them. And Will feels his chest fill with a sudden well of emotion, because Graham really does feel like his kid these days. Like he and Angie and Sophie and Graham are _one_ family, and they’re his kids.

He doesn’t really have the words to explain this to Poppy, so he tucks away that thought to process later.

Poppy and Rory head home, and Angie joins Will, Graham and Sophie at dinner for just a few minutes before announcing she’s exhausted and retreating to the bedroom. Will can tell something’s bothering her, and since Sleepy Angie isn’t the best at lying, he knows the kids pick up on it too, though they don’t say anything.

Will spends the evening with the kids, finishing up the last of their homework. Graham regales Will and Sophie with details about his morning with Derek, and Sophie does her flute practice while Graham does a very good job pretending that he enjoys flute music. Will sends the kids off to change into their pajamas and brush their teeth, and spends a few minutes cleaning in the kitchen before he goes to check on them. He runs into Graham in the hallway, staring at the door to Will and Angie’s bedroom.

“Hey Bud, everything alright?” Will asks. “Got your teeth brushed?”

“Will, is my mom okay?”

“Is she okay?” The question caught Will so off guard that he just parrots it back to Graham.

“Yeah, she just seemed tired all of today. And all of the days this week.”

Will kneels down to Graham’s height.

“Buddy, I promise she’s doing alright. She’s just very busy lately, and that makes her tired.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Working a full-time job, being a parent, _and_ growing a baby! Sprout is growing super fast right now.”

“Like a growth spurt?” Graham asks.

“It’s exactly like a growth spurt. Sprout needs lots of food and sleep in order to grow, and your mom is the one who has to give them those things. So yeah, she’s tired, but I promise you she’s doing okay. And it will be worth it.”

“Okay,” Graham says, not sounding totally convinced. “Just, please make sure she’s okay.”

“I promise you can trust me,” Will replies.

Graham nods and trots off to him and Sophie’s room. Will stands there for a moment, marveling at the compassionate kid Angie’s raised.

Once the kids are tucked under the covers, Will reads the next chapter of _James and the Giant Peach_ to them. They’ve been reading a chapter every night before bed.

“Alright you two, get a good night’s sleep so you’ll be ready for school tomorrow,” Will tells them, heading for the door.

Will hasn’t checked on Angie since just after dinner, and she was sleeping. Now, she’s sitting cross legged on her side of the bed, flipping through one of the pregnancy books that Will keeps stacked on his dresser. She’s wearing her favorite pajama pants, the ones with little snowflakes on them, and one of Will’s t-shirts. Her hair’s thrown up in a messy bun, and her eyes are trained in careful concentration.

For a moment, Will feels paralyzed, just standing there. She’s just so _beautiful._ He’s always been such a sucker for cheesy family moments, and there’s something about tucking his kids into bed and then coming to snuggle with his pregnant girlfriend that just makes him feel overwhelmed with happiness. And Angie’s the reason he gets to have all of this.

Angie looks up at Will, standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he replies. He comes around to her side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her head when she returns her eyes to the book. “The kids are in bed. You feeling okay? Want me to heat you up some leftovers?” He tries carefully to gauge her mood.

“I had an apple. I’m not really hungry.” She doesn’t look up.

Will quickly changes into his PJs, waiting to see if Angie will offer up anything else. But of course, she doesn’t. Angie’s not a big fan of talking about her feelings, but Will’s gotten pretty good at reading the hidden meanings in her long, drawn out silences.

Will crawls onto the bed to sit next to Angie, peering over her shoulder at the book. It’s opened to a chapter on breastfeeding, which doesn’t really seem like the most pertinent chapter for right now, but she hasn’t turned the page in the last several minutes, so Will suspects she isn’t really reading anyway.

“Hey,” Will says, trying to get Angie’s attention. “Doing some interesting reading?”

Angie nods, but doesn’t reply. Will waits another minute before he decides that he’s probably going to have to pry whatever’s bothering her out of her.

“Ange, any chance you could put the book away for now?” he asks.

“I want to finish reading this part,” she replies.

“But why are you worried about breastfeeding? That’s like six months away from now.”

“Well I want to be prepared.”

“Angie,” Will tries, “I can tell something’s bothering you. Can we just talk about it?”

“No we _can’t_ talk about it right now, because I’m _trying_ to read!” Angie’s angry tone isn’t really what Will was expecting. He suddenly wonders if he misread the situation. Is she mad at him? She finally looks up from the book. “I’m trying to read,” Angie continues, “because I don’t know remember _anything_ about babies, but we’re _having a baby_ in _sixth months!_ And I’m not prepared, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing because I pretty much messed _everything_ up the first time I tried this! And I’m not a good enough mom, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I just know I’m going to find a way to mess this up.”

On the last sentence, Angie’s voice breaks. She’s looking back down at her book, but Will moves without even thinking, pushing it to the side and pulling her closer to him, into his arms. Her face ends up nestled against his chest, and there’s a couple moments of quiet before Will can feel Angie’s body shake with a silent sob.

Angie hates to cry in front of other people. In the three years she’s known Will, as his friend, then best friend, then girlfriend, he’s seen her cry probably five times max. Which isn’t a lot when you consider how much they’ve been through together. She’s usually so good at hiding her emotions that this throws Will off-guard a bit. It tells him something’s really wrong.

They sit there for another minute, Angie curled up against Will, who’s gently stroking her back. He thinks about today. All of the joy and excitement of getting to do soccer tryouts with Sophie, decorating and painting with the kids, hearing Poppy call Graham his kid. He thinks about Sophie and Graham’s concerned little faces when they asked if Angie was okay, how lucky he felt in that moment to have them in his life. He wishes painfully, desperately, that he could somehow share that feeling with Angie. To show her how good all of this is; how lucky he is to have this life with her. But he’s not sure he even has the words to express it all.

Angie’s the one who pulls back first, rolling back over to her side of the bed on her stomach, stuffing her face in her pillow.

Will scoots closer to Angie and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. He takes a minute to think before he speaks, wanting to make sure each word means what he wants it to. “Angie, you are the most amazing person and mother I have ever known. Look, we’re both a little rusty on the whole baby thing, and we’re gonna have to relearn stuff, but that doesn’t make either of us bad parents.”

Angie doesn’t respond or lift her head from her pillow, but she lets out a long sigh, and Will can see her breathing returning to a normal pace. He continues.

“And I know you feel guilty about how you raised Graham when he was little. But he has turned out to be one of the most amazing kids I’ve ever met. Just now when I was putting the kids to bed they were asking me how you were doing, because they are about you so much. Graham is sweet and kind and silly and adventurous, and he gets all of that from you.”

Will pauses for a moment, and Angie finally turns her head to the side to look up at Will.

“Yeah well I’m lucky he turned out so great,” she says, her voice raspy. “But I’m just lucky. I’m not a good mom. We literally lived in a motel when he was a baby. And even now I feel like I do nothing but go to work and feel exhausted. When was the last time I even got to spend quality time with Graham? I’m just not good at this.”

“Angie, I know you feel overwhelmed. And like the past is going to repeat itself. But I promise you, it’s not. Graham turned out great _because_ of you, not in spite of you. You are the most important person in his life, and that should be evidence enough that you’re a great parent. And as for when he was a baby, I think you and I both know you did everything you possibly could with the circumstances you were given.”

Will doesn’t know a ton of details about that time in Angie and Graham’s lives. Angie really doesn’t like to talk about it. But he’s heard stories; the time a young Angie tired to sneak newborn Graham into a casino with her because she couldn’t afford a babysitter and needed money, and almost got in trouble with CPS. The time she got so caught up studying for a final exam in one of her college classes that she didn’t realized baby Graham had fallen while climbing out of his crib. It turned out he’d broken a toe.

But to Will, that doesn’t register as bad parenting. When he looks at Angie, all he can see is the amazing woman who started with nothing, and managed to raise a child, put herself through college, find a job, and buy a house, without any help from family or friends. And that, to him, is proof that she’s the greatest mom in the entire world.

He just wishes he could make Angie see that.

Angie finally pulls herself back up, wriggling closer so she can lean against Will. The two of them have both been so busy lately, and with Angie going to bed so early every night, they haven’t had a lot of time to just be together.

“Thank you,” Angie whispers against Will’s chest. “For everything. You’re the best parent I know.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Will whispers back, and he can feel Angie’s smile.

“For what?” she asks.

“For all this,” Will says. And once again, he’s not even sure he can put what he’s feeling into words. “Just… If someone had told me, a year ago today, that I’d be sitting here, with the love of my life, a little baby on the way, and the two best kids in the whole universe… I’m just so happy, Ange. And that’s thanks to you. There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Perhaps this is finally what Angie needed to hear, because she pulls back and reaches a hand up to Will’s face, pulling him down into a kiss. Her lips taste like her tears, but Will doesn’t care because he’s kissing Angie, and it’s the most amazing feeling in the world.

“I love you,” she murmurs against his lips.

“I love you,” Will whispers back.

They snuggle under the covers together, and Will lays there for a long time, listening as Angie’s breathing slows and softens.

There’s one thing he knows for sure, Will thinks to himself as he finally falls asleep:

As long as this kid has Angie D’Amato for a mom, they’re going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is in early April, which is Angie's birthday! Any ideas what she would want to do to celebrate? As always, I love reading your comments, suggestions, and ideas. There have already been several suggestions people left me in comments that I plan to incorporate into the story :)


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